Spike had made vague noises about going Underhill, saying he didn't want to see a bunch of flippin' fairies, but after seeing the pleading expression on Xander's face, he eventually gave in. Albeit, not gracefully. Silverhair had spoken for his safety, thinking the vampire was worried about his continued existence while surrounded by a race of people that held no love for his kind.

Spike just grinned at him through amazingly white fangs, "Not worried about the poofy lot. It's all that singing and dancing, gives me a headache, it does."

Spike could see the doubt on the High Lord's face, but Silverhair didn't call him on it. Which he was almost grateful for. But now that he was here, Spike was glad that he'd come. If for nothing else, the look of delighted wonder on Xander's face. The whelp never had much to smile about, and no matter how hard Spike tried, he could never completely erase the look of despair in the back of Xander's dark brown eyes. Spike felt an instant of jealously, that someone other than him had made his lover so happy, but pragmatically shrugged the feeling off. It didn't really matter why Xander was so happy, just that he was.

And now, here they were. Sitting in a cozy little cottage being served tea by a Seleighe Lady. Spike wished his Dark Princess could see this, but, then again, they'd run into the fair folk before, with unpleasant drastic results.

Seleighe blood was pure poison to vampires, Spike had learned that the hard way. He and Dru had been in Ireland, following the Poof, when they'd come upon a stunningly beautiful woman sitting all alone on the banks of a small moonlit lake.

Spike never hesitated. He shot out of the tree cover and snatched the beauty up into his arms. She didn't even have a chance to scream before he'd buried his fangs in her throat. Then he was the one screaming.

The blood burned. Burned like he'd slammed a shot of Holy Water. Dru had burst into tears, wringing her hands and wailing like a Banshee, while he'd just thrashed on the ground, smoke rising from his mouth.

His victim, if he could call her that, flashed him a cheeky grin and then threw him in the lake as if he'd weighed nothing more than a feather. The cool water rushing into his mouth eased the burning and he burst out of the lake intent on doing serious damage.

The woman was just standing there, waiting for him. "Will you survive?" She asked in a lilting voice.

"I'm goin' fuckin' kill you." He snarled through his fangs.

She had tipped her head back, laughing gayly. "Do try, child, if it means that much to you. I've not had a decent challenge in years."

But Spike's fury had died swifty. As she tipped back her head, her long red hair had fallen back over her shoulders, uncovering a delicately pointed ear. "Bloody Hell, you're an elf!"

The merry smile on her face had fled, immediately replaced by an ugly snarl. "Watch your mouth, vampire! I have killed for less than that insult!"

And thus had begun his education in the realms of the Faie. The red-haired beauty, Alaria, had taken both he and Dru Underhill, much against their will, and there he'd met Keighvin Silverhair for the first time. Keighvin, after a lot of shouting and fighting, had managed to convince his younger cousin that she couldn't keep a couple of vampires as pets. Then the Seleighe Lord had taken them back through the portal, back to the self-same moonlit lake where they'd met Alaria.

But he didn't stop there. Keighvin had stayed with them until they managed to chase Angelus down a couple of weeks later. To say that their Sire had been annoyed was a massive understatement. Angelus hadn't laid a hand on Dru, but he'd beaten Spike bloody for being stupid enough to attack a Faie. And when he was laid out on the floor, bleeding from more wounds than he could have counted, Angelus had come at him with a stake.

But Keighvin Silverhair had stepped in, and saved Spike from becoming dust. Angelus and the Seleighe Lord had wrecked the barn they were hiding in during their 'discussion', but Keighvin had finally won. Then he'd set Angelus down and read him the riot act, laying the blame for the entire incident on Angelus' shoulders. He'd even go so far as to tell Angelus that children were a thing to be cherished, even children such as his.

Keighvin had finally taken his leave of them a few days later. During the next few months Angelus had gone out of his way to teach Spike everything he could about the Faie, Underhill and other supernatural creatures that lived in the world around them. Then Angelus had run afoul of a gypsy curse and the good times had ended.

But ever since that time, Spike had kept his eyes open and had seen things he'd only imagined when he'd been young and human. Tiny winged creatures flitting around night blooming flowers deep in the woods. A wrinkled little man who opened a farmer's chicken coop and released it's denizen's, then had winked at Spike and disappeared into the knot hole of an old oak tree. He'd seen Glastig swimming in icy streams and Dryads dancing the trees.

But the most lasting memories were of the Seleighe Lords and Ladies he'd run into on occasion. Tall, inhumanly beautiful, they'd walked among the humans, but for some reason, the humans never seemed to notice. Except for the children, the children always saw them. Saw them and smiled like Christmas had come early.

The Seleighe were also the reason Spike had never, ever, fed on a child. The Faie seemed to take a dim view of anyone who would hurt a child. When Spike had been in New York, he'd come across a gang of toughs beating a couple of street kids. Then a Seleighe Knight had come out of nowhere and began teaching the toughs some manners. Never one to miss a good fight, Spike had waded in and given the Faie a hand, not that he really needed one.

When the last of the assailants lay bleeding on the ground, the Seleighe Lord had opened a portal to Underhill and taken the children by the hand. Before they walked into the golden light, the Knight had turned and inclined his head. Spike had returned the gesture and watched them disappear, then had turned to the feast laid out on the ground.

There were times when Spike wished that the Faie had found Xander when he was young, before all the damage had been done, but then he'd never have met his young lover. And being with Xander was one thing Spike would never regret. Not for any reason.

*****

Valeria led Buffy through the woods surrounding the dale and to an opening in the trunk of an impossibly huge tree. It was completely dark at first, then a faint light glimmered in the distance. It seemed to take forever, but when they finally stepped into the light, Buffy found herself in a ransackle room facing a twisted version of a man.

Normally, the Slayer would have immediately gone for her weapons, but while the man was hideously ugly, he had the kindest eyes she'd ever seen. Valeria gave the man a hug and kissed his grubby cheek. "Hello, Mort, you old rascal, I've brought someone to meet you."

Valeria reached back and pulled Buffy to her side, "Mort, this is Buffy. Buffy, this is Mort, the finest smith to ever lay a hammer to metal."

Mort grunted, "Slayer then? Haven't met one of you in a very, very long time. What are you doing here, chit? Shouldn't you be out killing something?"

"Yes, I should. I have to meet Glorificus." Buffy said quietly, not taking the least bit of offense at Mort's questions.

The smith threw a startled glance at Valeria and she nodded, her expression grim. Mort slumped down in his chair and shook his head, "Ach, I knew that bloody covenant was going to come back and take a nip out of our arses."

Valeria perched on the edge of the table, leaving the other chair for Buffy to take. "The covenant was, and still is, necessary, Mort." Turning to Buffy, she went on to explain. "Many, many, years ago, our King, Oberon, called forth the host of the Seleighe Court to stand against Glorificus. The battles raged for days and many of our people died, which is no easy thing. Our people have long lives, and because of this, we seldom have children. Entire clans were lost, no one came through the battle unscathed. The Moon Sidhe, the rarest of us all, lost so many of their people the few survivors opened a portal and have never been seen again."

"Glorificus fared no better. And at the end of it all, Oberon struck a bargain with the she-bitch. As long as she stayed away from Underhill, the Danaa Sidhe would never ride against her again. At least not directly. And just to make sure she understood how serious he was, Oberon threatened to call out the Wild Hunt."

Seeing how confused the Slayer looked, Mort elaborated, "The Wild Hunt, girl, are our versions of Demons. Lost souls that none can stand against, not even Glorificus. But they are a terrible, terrible thing. And once let loose, they are hard to contain. If the Hunt were called, more than just Glorificus would suffer. Aye, Faie and Human alike would also be lost."

Turning a glare at Valeria, Mort added, "I'm still not liking this, Valeria. One tiny slip of a girl has no business standing against that one unaided."

Valeria nodded, "I agree. That's why I brought her to you, Mortequi, she needs weapons. But as for the convenant, those bloody Priests have turned the Key into a Human girl."

"She's my little sister. Keighvin brought her here so Glory couldn't get at her."

Mort lurched out of his chair, "Come with me, girl, and I'll make sure that you have weapons the likes of which have never been seen and armor that can stand more than even that bitch can dish out. And if Oberon doesn't like it, he can kiss my arse."

Mort opened the door to his forge and Buffy gazed at the walls in shock. Dashing into the room, she plucked a silver chased dagger from it's display, "Ooohhh, pretty."

Mort shook his head, "Aye, tis pretty enough, but look at this..."

Valeria left the two kindred souls to get better acquainted while she went looking for her son. And this time, she wasn't going to let him get away from her without getting some answers.

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