A Measure of Happines

Valerie

Disclaimer: All characters owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, etc. I own nothing.

Summary: More post-Giftage. If you can wade through yet another Buffy resurrection, I promise there’s some B/S sex a comin’!

Rating: R

Spoilers: Through the end of Season 5

Feedback: Yes please!

Distribution: Sure.

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Chapter 1: The Beginning

The three vampires circled, growling. They moved as a unit, which was rare; these three had obviously been hunting together for some time. They had probably come to Sunnydale thinking that the warm summer nights and the absence of a slayer would make for easy pickings. They were wrong.

The man they circled became a blur of kicks and punches, managing to take on the three fierce hunters at once. He was driven by rage and grief and guilt, and he gave no quarter. In almost the blink of an eye, two of the vampires were nothing but piles of dust. The leader, seeing that he had met more than his match, quickly cut his losses and ran into the night. For a moment, the night was still and quiet.

"You lost one!" came a sing-song voice from behind a tombstone. The fifteen-year old who owned the voice popped up and cracked her gum, regarding the vampire in the black leather duster levelly.

"Dammit, Dawn, how many times have I told you not to follow me on patrol!" Spike tucked his stake into his belt and stalked toward the other side of the cemetery. Dawn followed.

"I know, I know, but I was bored and I finished my homework. And there was nothing good on TV. Besides, Willow lets me come on patrol with her," Dawn complained.

"Yes, but patrol for Red is flinging stakes at vampires from a safe distance using her wiccan mojo. Or binding them with air and then staking them at her leisure. It isn’t as dangerous."

"You know, Buffy was fifteen when she started doing it professionally."

Spike winced. Even after four months, the mention of her name was painful. "Well, you aren’t a Slayer," he growled. Quietly, he added, "Be bloody well thankful for that."

They continued on in silence. Since Buffy had died, taking care of the demons and vampires that were drawn to Sunnydale by the hellmouth fell to those that had loved her and were left behind after the battle with Glory on that horrible night four months ago. Spike and Willow did much of the active patrolling, being the strongest, Spike because he was a vampire himself, and Willow because of her powerful magical abilities. Giles had decided to stay in England after debriefing the Council on Buffy’s death, finding living in Sunnydale too painful. Tara, Anya, and Xander helped, but they weren’t as strong, and the group was loathe to lose another of their number. Whether Buffy’s sister was old enough to help out with things like patrol was becoming a source of constant tension, especially with Spike, who had taken his oath to protect her very seriously.

As Dawn was preparing another argument they came to Buffy’s grave. They stopped, as all of them always did. Spike stood awkwardly for a moment, then moved to brush a few stray fallen leaves from the stone. He then let his fingers trace lovingly over the letters of her name. Buffy Anne Summers, 1981-2001. After a minute, he shrugged, almost as if he was trying to get a great weight off of his shoulders. "Let’s go."

As they walked away, Dawn began to notice the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She paused, as did Spike, who also sensed something was amiss. The air smelled of ozone. Before either of them could say anything, a growing light in their peripheral vision made them whip around toward the grave, where something, some kind of light energy was growing in intensity. They stared, dumbfounded, as it grew in brightness and they shielded their eyes. Then the light seemed to explode outward, and Spike knocked Dawn to the ground, shielding her with his body. As quickly as it appeared, the light seemed to die, and the two people picked themselves up off the ground.

"What the fuck was that?" asked Dawn, whose bad language had earned her a lecture from almost everyone but Spike.

"I don’t – wait, there’s someone over there." Spike trotted back to the grave, where at first glance there was clearly someone or something lying on the ground. When he got there, he stopped and stood still. And did nothing, just stood and stared.

"Spike, what is it?" Dawn worked her way back over as well. "Spike? Hello, Earth to Spike, what–" Then Dawn saw what Spike saw.

"Buffy?"

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CHAPTER 2: The Resurrection

She lay on the ground like a vision or a fantasy. Her hair was splayed out on the ground below her. Her skin was pink and unblemished. And her clothes were nonexistent.

For several seconds, her name hung in the air. Then Dawn dropped to her knees by the body, frantically feeling for a pulse and touching the face, assuring herself that it wasn’t a mirage. "There’s a pulse and she’s warm... and she’s breathing... Oh, God. Oh, Buffy." She turned to Spike, tears in her eyes. "Is it her? Is she real?"

It took a couple of tries before Spike could get sounds to come out of his mouth. "I don’t know. We have to be careful; even if it is her she might not be... right. And this could be a trick, a ... simulacrum of some kind."

At that point, a sharp intake of breath brought their eyes back to the woman on the ground. Her eyes were open, staring wildly at the sky above her.

"Buffy, can you hear me? Buffy?" Dawn cried. The woman who looked like her lost sister looked into Dawn’s eyes.

"Dawn?" came a cautious, slightly raspy voice that was still unmistakably Buffy’s.

Dawn collapsed on her sister, crying and praying and thanking every power that ever existed. Spike could only watch in awe, in fear that if he moved or spoke he would shatter into a million pieces.

Buffy seemed to come more to herself, bringing her arms up to cradle her sister and trying to sit up. "Dawnie, what is it? What’s wrong? Where – what happened? Where are we?" She then seemed to notice her own body for the first time. "And where are my clothes?" she asked a little indignantly.

Spike sprang to action at that point, whipping off his leather coat and offering it to the woman as cover. Which she accepted, her eyes wary. "Spike? What’s going on?"

How does one answer a question like that? Well, you see, you died four months ago, and now you have appeared mysteriously in a bring flashing light. "What do you remember, luv?"

Buffy thought for a moment as she dislodged Dawn enough to put on the coat. "Fighting Glory. I went up the tower, and Dawn was up there. I cut her bonds, and tried to get her down, but it was too late. The portal was open. I realized that I could close the portal with my blood. I said goodbye to Dawn. I jumped. I was surrounded by white light. It was painful. Then ... then I heard Dawn’s voice and I opened my eyes and here I was. I’m surprised to be alive, to be honest."

"You weren’t," Spike choked out. Buffy’s retelling had taken him back to that night, a place of nightmares for him that he tried desperately not to remember.

"What?"

"You were dead, pet."

"What do you mean dead? Like, someone revived me, did CPR or something?"

"No, like as far as we knew a moment ago, your body was six feet under the bloody ground right here," Spike said. "Look." He indicated the tombstone behind her.

Buffy turned, then crawled over to the stone. She knelt before it for a long time, staring at the words.

"Buffy?" Dawn prodded.

"’She saved the world a lot’?"

"That was Xander’s idea," Dawn explained.

Buffy turned around, tears in her eyes. "How can this be?"

Spike went to her, helping her to her feet. "We don’t know. Why don’t we get you inside somewhere safe and we’ll get the Scoobies together and we’ll figure this one out, OK, pet?"

They headed out of the cemetery, supporting Buffy on unsteady legs between them. "Where should we go?" Dawn asked.

"You still got a key to the old house?" Spike asked.

"Yep."

"There then."

Buffy looked from one to the other of them. "The old house?"

"Your house, luv. It’s been shut up since you… "

Buffy stopped walking. "How long?"

"Buffy, let’s just – "

"How long?"

Spike sighed. "Four months."

"Four months? I’ve been dead for four months?"

Spike looked at the ground and nodded. After a few seconds, Buffy again allowed herself to be led in the direction of her house.

Buffy looked at Dawn. "So where have you been living?"

"Well," Dawn looked guiltily at Spike. "In theory I’m living with Dad in L.A. But, I don’t actually spend the night there very often. Dad travels a lot, or spends the night with his girlfriend. So I stay here. With Willow sometimes, or with Xander and Anya, or … with Spike."

"Not in the crypt," Buffy groaned.

"Yeah. It’s kind of like camping out, you know? Besides, I feel safe there," Dawn said defiantly.

"If you cared so much about being safe, why are you following me on patrol?" Spike asked her in a chastising, fatherly voice.

Dawn rolled her eyes. Buffy looked questioningly at Spike. "Patrol?"

Spike got that look on his face that indicated he had again been caught wearing the proverbial white hat. "Well, somebody has to keep the Hellmouth safe for your li’l sis. Between me and Red, we do a pretty good job of it."

"Willow patrols?"

"Oh, you should see her, Buffy," Dawn gushed. "She can stake a vampire from about 40 feet away just by flinging a stake with her mind. It is so cool."

"Really." Buffy thought about that while they walked the rest of the way in silence.

They entered the stuffy, dusty house and Spike flipped on the lights. "Least no one thought to turn off the power."

"Your room is pretty much the way you left it, Buffy, so if you want some clothes …" Dawn said, glancing at Buffy in the leather coat.

Buffy looked down at herself. "Right. Clothes would be good." She walked slowly up the stairs, supporting herself with the banister. Dawn and Spike stood and watched her ascend.

When she had gone, Spike made his way over to the living room couch and slowly sat, putting his face in his hands. Dawn watched as he finally lost control of his emotions, his shoulders shaking. Tears in her own eyes, she ran and put her arms around him. Neither spoke for a minute.

Finally Spike looked up, shakily wiping his face and running his fingers through his hair. "We should call the others."

"Yeah." Dawn pulled the cell phone her father had gotten her out of her pocket and began punching numbers. "Tara? It’s Dawn. Um, I don’t know quite how to say this, but…"

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CHAPTER 3: The Reunion

"Buffy?"

Dawn pushed open the door to Buffy’s room to find her sitting on the bed, wearing a sweater and a pair of pants and clutching Spike’s coat on her lap. She was jolted out of her thoughts by Dawn’s voice, and she stood quickly. "Sorry, it’s just … This is a lot to deal with."

"For all of us," Dawn agreed, going over and hugging her sister tightly. "Oh, Buffy, I don’t care why this happened, I’m just so thankful – " Dawn’s tears started again, and she clutched Buffy like a life preserver. Finally she pulled away. "The guys are downstairs."
Downstairs, Anya, Xander, Tara, and Willow clustered around Spike, trying to understand his disjointed retelling of the evening’s events.

"So she just… appeared." Willow said.

"Pretty much." Spike was pacing around the room, taking deep drags off a cigarette that he held in a shaking hand.

"Is she… normal? Is she —" Xander trailed off.

"Is she evil?" Anya asked with her trademark straightforwardness.

"I don’t think so. She seems like herself, although obviously a bit shaken by the news that she’s been dead. To her, she just jumped into that bloody portal an hour ago. The fact that it’s four months later…" He stopped as Dawn and Buffy appeared on the stairs and no one was listening to him anymore.

The next few minutes were emotional ones, with much hugging and crying on all sides. Finally, everyone sat down and Anya spoke up. "Buffy, don’t take this the wrong way, but no one else is going to ask you: are you evil?"

Buffy glared at Anya, then smiled. "I guess that’s a justifiable question, but no. I mean, I feel like me. Buffy." She paused, "Oh! I have a reflection! See?" She stood up and looked at herself in the mirror above the mantle. "That’s good, right?"

Willow pondered it. "Well, it proves you aren’t a vampire, but Spike already said you had a pulse. I wonder… Tara, maybe we should do a sensing spell for Buffy’s aura. See if it seems the same as it used to." Tara agreed, and they brought Buffy over to a clear spot on the floor. They each took one of her hands. "This should be easier than when we were looking for you when you were in Faith’s body, because you are right here in the room with us." They both closed their eyes and started chanting quietly, while Buffy stood between them looking dubious about the whole operation. After a few minutes, both witches opened their eyes and turned to hug Buffy, tears in their eyes again. "Welcome back, Buffy," Willow whispered.

"Guess that means she passed," Xander commented, then went to join the hug.

After more crying, Buffy got a confused look on her face. "Guys? Where’s Giles?"

"Oh! England," Dawn said. "He kind moved there permanently."

"Giles left?" Buffy sat down, looking forlorn. "He just… left?"

"Well, it was hard for him, staying here," Xander said. "After the, uh, funeral, he had to go back there to debrief the Council on your, uh…"

"Death," Buffy prompted.

"Yeah. Anyway, he just decided to stay. It is his home, and I guess the Council gave him a nice desk job. He still owns the Magic Box, but Anya manages it. He says he’ll probably sell it to us eventually, probably as a wedding present," Xander commented, smiling at his future wife.

"Wedding present? You guys are engaged? That’s so –" Now it was Buffy’s turn to cry as she hugged first Xander and then Anya. "Oh, God. I’ve missed so much."

"Shouldn’t we call Giles?" Tara asked.

Dawn was already punching numbers again on the cell phone. "Can’t wait til Dad gets this bill." She left the room so that she could hear better.

"So this is what I don’t get," Anya said. "We all saw Buffy’s body. We put it, well, not we, but someone put it in a coffin and buried it. So where did this one come from?" she asked, pointing at Buffy.

"Actually, I think it’s a new one," Buffy said. "There are differences." They all gave her weird looks. "Scars. My scars are gone. I had a scar here on my neck from when Angel fed from me. It’s gone. I had a scar on my stomach from when that vamp turned my stake on me last fall. Gone. It’s like, it’s like I’ve been put in a body that’s just like mine, but, well, new."

"Do you think, well, um, do you think you’re still, um, a Slayer?" Tara asked timidly.

Buffy looked surprised. "Wow. I never thought of that."

"One way to answer that question," Spike declared, standing up and stubbing his cigarette out. He faced Buffy and spread his arms. "Let’s have it then. Just like old times."

"You want her to hug you?" Xander asked.

"Well, wouldn’t say no, but actually, Harris, I want her to hit me. See what she’s got." He turned back to Buffy.

"I don’t know," Buffy hesitated.

"Hmm, now I’m starting to doubt whether you really are Buffy, cause she never would’ve passed up an opportunity to knock me on my sorry ass."

"Fine," she said, grinning. Fast as lightening, her fist connected with Spike’s jaw. And Spike just as quickly connected with the floor. There was a smattering of applause from the onlookers.

Spike sat up, rubbing his jaw and regarding Buffy with a look full of admiration and love. "Yeah. I’d say she’s still the Chosen One, alright."

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CHAPTER 4: Welcome Back from the Dead

"I don’t know if this is such a good idea," Buffy said as they got out of the car in the parking garage of the apartment complex where Xander and Anya now lived together. It had been three days since her ‘resurrection,’ as everyone now called it.

"Come on, Buffy, even in Sunnydale a ‘Welcome Back from the Dead’ party is a pretty rare occurrence. Besides, there were some other people who wanted to see you," Dawn said, taking Buffy’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"People? How many people?" Buffy asked with much trepidation.

"Just a few, I promise."

They headed for the elevator. "Did I mention how grown up you’re starting to look now?"

Dawn smiled and rolled her eyes. "Only about a million times."

"Sorry, it’s just, so many things have changed in four months. Xander and Anya engaged and living together, everyone treating Spike like one of the gang, –"

"Well, Buffy, that started when you began trusting him after he was tortured by Glory and didn’t give me up. Then, when you died, he took it so hard – I guess even Xander felt sorry for him."

"He took it hard?"

Dawn stopped walking. "God, Buffy, think about it. He’s a completely neutered vampire, his whole reason for existence cut off from him. The only thing he had to live for was you. When you died, he ..."

"What?"

"Tried to end it. I caught him outside our house the morning after the wake waiting for the sun to rise. I pled with him to come inside, which he finally did. Then there was the blood; he wouldn’t eat. I practically had to force-feed him for a week." Dawn sighed.

"Why did you do all that to keep him alive?"

Dawn’s eyes got shiny with tears. "Because I couldn’t lose anyone else! Because I needed him." Dawn started walking again. "I’m not sure how I would’ve gotten through all this without him. I guess... I guess he’s like a big brother to me. A much, much older, pale weirdo big brother."

Buffy smiled at that. "And everyone else just accepted him into the Scooby fold?"

"Not at first. But he was needed to help keep the vampire population under control. Then gradually the others started to see what I saw; that he was still interested in doing good. And obviously it wasn’t to get into your pants anymore."

"Dawn!"

"What?" said Dawn, looking innocent. "Here we are," she said as they approached the door to Xander and Anya’s apartment. Dawn stuck her head in the door. "She’s here!" she yelled, waited a beat, then grabbed Buffy by the arms and propelled her through the doorway.

Cries of "Welcome back!" and "Hooray!" filled the room as her friends crowded around to greet her. They had even made a couple of banners, one reading "Welcome Back from the Dead" and the other, more blasphemous, reading "Jesus ain’t got nothin’ on Buffy."

In addition to Xander, Anya, Tara, and Willow, Giles, who had flown in two days ago, was there. Also present were a few special people who had made this trip from L.A. under much different circumstances four months ago. When Buffy saw Angel, she went to him and folded herself into his arms. After a long moment with no words, she pulled away and greeted Cordelia and Wesley warmly. Anya and Xander brought out food and turned on some music, and the little party began. Buffy and Angel sat down together on the sofa.

"I feel like I should be apologizing to people because they had to mourn me," Buffy remarked.

"Yeah, Cordy was just saying to me the other day, Buffy sure was selfish dying on us like that."

Buffy laughed. "I’m not sure if you’re joking or not."

"I’m joking. You’d be surprised with Cordelia these days. She’s grown up a lot."

The door banged open and Spike came in, a twelve-pack of beer in each hand. " ‘Lo, all."

"Spike, the bearer of beer! Come on back!" Xander beckoned from the kitchen.

Buffy watched the interchange bemusedly. "I don’t know what scares me more, that William the Bloody is shlepping beers for a bunch of humans or that Xander had clearly already invited him into his apartment."

Angel looked at Buffy seriously. "Do you trust him, Buffy?"

Buffy pondered that. "Spike? I don’t know. The others have had four months longer to get used to the new, improved Spike, the one who, as Dawn put it, is doing good for reasons other than getting into my pants." She grimaced at that. "I guess in some ways I do trust him."

"Just... be careful. He is capable of human emotions, more than most vampires, but that doesn’t make him human."

"I know."

There was a slightly awkward pause. "Giles said they have no idea yet why you’re back."

Buffy sighed. "No. Giles has exhausted his own resources and has called the Council. They’re looking into it, I guess. But it would make me feel a lot better, just... knowing. I guess you can relate."

"Yeah." Angel reached into his pocket, pulling out a business card and a pen. "I think I know someone who might be able to help you, though," he said, writing an address on the back of the card. "This is the address of a place in L.A. called Caritas. It’s a bar, well, actually a demon kareoke bar. Don’t ask," he replied to her querulous expression. "The guy who runs the place, Lorne, is a personal friend of mine. He may be able to give you some of the answers you’re looking for."

"Thanks," she said, taking the card and turning it over. "Wow, I never saw your cards before. What is that logo, a lobster or something?"

--------------

Buffy stood on the balcony of the apartment, a beer in hand, gazing wistfully out into the night. The party was nice, but in some ways it was too much too soon. And she feared that like three years ago when she returned from her stint as a runaway, her friends were using the party as a way to hide the fact that they weren’t entirely comfortable with her yet.

Spike came out onto the balcony and lit a cigarette. "Now why is the guest of honor hiding out here?"

She shrugged. "I don’t know." She gestured toward the apartment. "It’s too much, I guess."

"Yeah, I told them that it would be, but Willow and Xander got an idea and they ran with it." He examined her face in the dim light. "How are you holding up with all this? Really."

Buffy took a shaky breath. "Not great. I guess I just have no experience that helps me deal. Being dropped into a world four months after I died in it. Not knowing how or why. Not knowing what my place in this world is anymore. Not knowing if I even have one," she said more quietly.

"Buffy, how can you say that? Of course you have a place! As Dawn’s sister, as a friend to so many people –"

"Yeah, people who still look at me cross-eyed for even being here," she said angrily. "They grieved for me and they moved on, and now here I am trying to reinsert myself into their lives again –"

"Buffy, you’re wrong. Yes, things have happened since you died. The world is four months older. But if you think for a minute that we had really ‘moved on,’ that we haven’t thanked the stars every single day for having you back –" He stopped for a moment, swallowed, and took an unneeded breath. "You friends just need to get over the feeling that they’re seeing a ghost every time they look at you, that’s all."

"You don’t look at me that way."

He looked away. "I guess I spent more time fantasizing that you would come back somehow is all. This, this is just my fantasy made real."

She smiled at him sadly. Spike stared out at the night sky, refusing to meet her glance. On impulse, she moved to him and wrapped her arms around him. He jumped, startled, then returned the embrace.

"Not to look a gift horse in the mouth and all that, but what’s this for?"

Buffy shrugged. "You said you wouldn’t say no to a hug, so..."

Spike smiled, then hugged her tighter. "Welcome back from the dead, Buffy."

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CHAPTER 5: Right Hand Man

After three more days, Buffy was itching to get back to her Slayer duties. Her friends encouraged her to rest, but Buffy pointed out that after Glory, slaying a simple vampire would be a welcome change. However, when she finally went out on her first patrol, Spike was in tow.

"Spike, I appreciate your concern, really, but I’ll be fine. You can go home."

"If I went home, Willow would kick my ass. Come on, Buffy, allow us to be a little paranoid about losing you right now."

"Fine." They walked through the cemetery in silence for a bit. "Giles is going back to England tomorrow."

"Yeah, I heard."

"Guess I’m officially Watcher-less again," Buffy said sadly.

Spike tried to make light of it. "Oh, you know anytime you want someone to watch you," he said, pointedly looking at her ass, "I’d be more than happy to oblige." Buffy didn’t respond, even to punch him. Spike dropped the joke. "Well, you know, luv, he got back together with that Olivia bird. Can’t expect him to spend the rest of his life in Sunnydale clucking his tongue at Americans."

"I know. I want him to be happy. After all we’ve been through he deserves a calm, happy life with a wife and maybe children, even. Can you imagine little Gileses running around?" She giggled, but it quickly trailed off. "Somebody should have those things," she muttered.

"Translation: you believe you will never have those things."

"You have to admit, it’s not looking good. The other night Cordelia asked if coming back from the dead made me feel invincible, or impervious to harm. But really it makes me feel just the opposite. I feel like the countdown clock on my life has been reset, but it’s still counting down fast. Someday another Glory or Master or some other Big Bad is gonna come along and I’m gonna lose. Or I’m gonna have to sacrifice myself again." She sighed. "Besides, none of that matters if I never find a man to share my short and pathetic life with anyway."

"Woah, close the streets, because Buffy’s havin’ a pity parade!" Spike took her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes. "First, all you can do is live each day the way you want to live it and fight the battles you have to fight. If you die tomorrow, well, I’ll be royally pissed off, but that’s the way things are, and if you live to be a grandma with sagging breasts, then that’s the way things are. Just be happy. And as far as men go," he grinned, "You’ve just gotta stop denyin’ your feelings and hook up with me once and for all." She rolled her eyes. "I’m kidding. Buffy, you are the most beautiful, strong-willed, fascinating, sexy woman I have ever had the pleasure to know. Any man who gets to look at you, much less marry you and sire your babies should consider himself the luckiest man on Earth. Eventually you’ll meet someone who realizes that." He let go of her chin and started walking again.

She just stood and stared at him for a few seconds before she was able to get over the shock of his words, at which point she trotted to catch up with him. "Spike," she said, grabbing his hand, "That was… Thank you." And with that she kissed him gently on the lips. "I wish you could be… well, I guess I wish you were human."

He winced internally at that, but didn’t show her his pain at that statement. "You know, being human is highly overrated. Besides, you wouldn’t have liked me as a human. I was a ponce."

"What happened to, ‘I’ve always been bad’?"

"Yeah, about that, I wasn’t entirely truthful. Actually, I was pretty fuckin’ innocent, and painfully shy, and … a poet."

"Really?" She tried to imagine Spike writing poetry. Nope, impossible. She tried again: the hair would’ve been different, his natural color and in some 19th century style, same with the clothes, no scar over the eyebrow, OK, now she could sort of see it. But then she tried to imagine this 19th century Spike, no, William, in her mind’s eye telling her she was beautiful and sexy, and that didn’t work either. Maybe he was right, maybe she wouldn’t have liked him. Which made her ponder the fact that she liked him now. In spite of everything in their past, most of it ugly, he was now her friend.

"Struck speechless by the idea of me writing flowery poetry, eh?"

"Actually, I was struck speechless by the idea that you and I, in spite of everything in the past, are now pretty much friends."

"Pretty twisted. I guess I have things to apologize for. Not for trying to kill you for two years, that was the natural order of things. That was the food chain. But once I started loving you…" He paused. "That thing with Dru, and that bloody robot. I’m sorry for those things. I wish I had done that better. I guess that’s the kind of stuff a soul comes in handy for, huh?"

She smiled a small, wistful smile. "I guess."

They walked in silence a little longer. Finally Buffy asked the question she’d been pondering for some time. "Spike, if you got that chip out today, would you try to kill me?"

He looked at her with a pained expression. "The chip doesn’t control my feelings, it wouldn’t be like losing a soul. You, your sister, even your soddin’ friends... I care about you. I care about what happens to you, and I would grieve if something happened to any of you. Well, maybe not Xander," he said grinning. Then he turned serious again. "So no, I wouldn’t try to kill you or Dawn or the Scoobies. I wouldn’t leave notes on your pillow or kill Willow’s bloody fish either. I’m not Angel.

"But if what you’re really asking is, would I continue to be a white hat, fighting the good fight and all that rubbish, would I continue to shop at the butcher, that’s something else again. I am what I am. A vampire. I’m not much of one now, to be sure, but if I were again... Feeding from humans is my nature, luv. I’m not sure if I could deny that."

Buffy looked at him angrily. "So just like that, after two years, you just, what, pick up where you left off? After protecting humans you go back to preying on them?" Spike shrugged. "Then I’d have to kill you," Buffy said softly, and she was surprised that it made her heart ache a little to say it.

"I know."

Before they could say any more, they both caught movement off to the left with their peripheral vision and turned quickly, both taking up a defensive position. Two vampires were walking along several yards away, oblivious to the Slayer and vampire watching them.

"We’ll flank them," Buffy said, and without a backward glance at Spike, headed off to the left, ducking behind tombstones so that she could make a surprise attack. She positioned herself roughly in the vampire’s path and waited for them to catch up. When they were a few feet away, she sprang up in front of them, a wicked smile on her face. "Well, hey there, boys. Remember me?"

It was clear that they did in fact remember her, because they immediately began running in the opposite direction, only to find Spike bearing down on them from behind with his game face on. Caught between the proverbial rock and hard place, they turned to fight.

Buffy moved in to deliver a roundhouse kick to the head of the bigger of the two, but her movement was slightly off center and she almost lost her balance. Disconcerted, she punched the vampire three times in the stomach, causing him to stagger backwards. That’s better. She pulled out a stake and plunged it into his chest, but he had moved slightly at the last second and she missed the heart. Before she could attack again, the vamp grabbed her wrist and twisted it viciously, causing her to drop the stake, gasping in pain. He kicked her feet out from under her, and Buffy hit the ground. Seizing his advantage, the vampire dove onto her, pinning her to the ground. Buffy felt his fangs at her neck, ready to plunge in. Great, she thought, struggling against him, I get resurrected just to die at the hands of some two-bit Sunnydale vamp. Suddenly, the vampire disappeared and a fine cloud of dust drifted down into her face. Buffy looked up to see Spike standing over her, a stake in his hand.

"The other one?" she asked.

"Got ‘im." Spike took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "God, Slayer, what happened?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 6: At the Still Point

"So you couldn’t fight at all?"

All of the Scoobies, including Giles, were gathered around the big table in the back of the magic shop. Buffy sat in the middle of them, icing her wrist and wilting a little under all the concerned gazes.

"No, I could," she replied, "if it was something that was just dependent on strength. But anything that required any amount of finesse and it was like... it was like my mind knew exactly what to do but my body wasn’t behaving." She thought for a second. "Actually, it was like the first time I slayed a vampire, sort of."

"You know," Willow said, "that makes a sort of sense. Buffy, you said your body was like new. All of your scars were gone. Maybe this is the same thing. You have the mental memory of all of your Slayer training, but none of the physical memory. Your body doesn’t remember how to be a Slayer."

"Great," Buffy said, feeling worse than ever. "So what you’re saying is that five years of Slayer training, completely out the window."

"Probably not. Your mind still remembers it all. The skills are all still up there," Willow said, tapping Buffy’s head, "and the tactics. You just need to retrain your body."

"Oh." Buffy looked around the room. "Well, I guess you guys aren’t completely off the hook for patrol for a little while, at least until I know I won’t be taken out by the first vamp that comes along."

Giles took off his glasses. "Buffy, I can call the Council, tell them about this, that I need to stay and help you get back into shape, continue your training."

"Giles, no, I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve started getting your life back together in England, I can’t just ask you to drop all that and –"

"But, Buffy, you need me to –"

"Hold it, you two," Spike said. "I think I have a solution to this." He paused dramatically. "I can train her."

Everyone looked at Spike for a few seconds, speechless. Then Xander spoke up. "You?"

"Yes, Harris, me. As you probably haven’t forgotten, I used to want this woman dead. I studied her. I watched her fight. I personally got my ass kicked by her several times. And more recently, I’ve fought along side her. For the last four months, I’ve been doing her job. I think I’m imminently qualified."

Giles was nervously wiping his glasses. "Yes, Spike, I’m sure that’s all true, but given your history with Buffy, I doubt she would agree to –"

"Actually, I think it’s a good idea." Everyone turned and looked at Buffy as if she had suddenly sprouted a second head. "Spike’s right, he’s qualified. And as we were discussing earlier tonight, we are friends now," she said, smirking at Spike.

"Buffy, are you sure?" Xander asked. "That’s putting a lot of trust in Spike. What if the chip stops working?"

Buffy gave Spike a measured look. "Let’s just say that we have an understanding on that score."

--------------------

"You’re leaving yourself open when you do that."

Buffy stood in the training room in the back of the magic shop as the punching bag swung slowly in front of her. She was sweating lightly, her hair in a pony tail, wearing spandex shorts and a sports bra. Spike sat against one wall, watching her. They had been training together almost every day for two weeks.

Buffy looked at him in frustration. "What do you mean?"

"When you attack like that, you’re leaving your left side open. Look." He came over to her and led her to the middle of the floor. "Attack me."

She did, and he quickly found her weakness and took advantage of it. Buffy hit the floor. "See?"

The first time they sparred with each other and Spike accidentally landed a punch, they had both stared at each other horrified when he didn’t fall over with his expected chip-induced headache. They soon realized, when Spike experimented with vamping out and attacking her and did indeed collapse in agony, that his intent was somehow governing the effect of the chip. When they were training, the chip didn’t prevent him from fighting with her, since his intent was not to hurt her.

Buffy stood up and dusted herself off. "OK, I think I see." She modified her attack, and this time it was Spike who ended up on the floor.

"Good," he said, groaning slightly as he stood up and moved back to his original spot on the floor.

"Wait," she said, "let’s spar. I’m tired of the punching bag. You put up slightly more of a fight."

The verbal jab was enough for Spike. He pulled off his T-shirt and joined her in the middle of the floor, and they began circling each other in defensive positions.

As they fought, they carried on a conversation that was positively mundane by comparison.

"How’d Dawn do on that history paper?" Spike asked as Buffy easily blocked several quick punches.

"B-minus." Buffy grabbed Spike’s fist and twisted, dropping him to his knees. She then let him up and they returned to their starting stances.

"B-minus? That paper was a damn site better than a bloody B-minus!" Spike landed a kick to Buffy’s stomach, sending her staggering back several steps. He pressed the advantage.

"Yeah, but she got marked off for not being able to site a source for some of her information. ‘Interview with a vampire who was present during the Boxer Rebellion’ doesn’t really work, does it?" Buffy fended off Spike’s attack, then used his forward momentum to propel him into the wall.

As they sparred, Buffy couldn’t help but notice Spike’s upper body. Not at all hard on the eyes. She watched the muscles of his arms flex as he threw punches at her. She found herself inadvertently remembering the words of the robot that was made in her likeness. You should see him naked. Then she suddenly found herself on her back on the floor, looking up at a grinning Spike. "You let your mind wander, pet." He helped her up.

Buffy blushed and they resumed. Fighting with Spike was a lot like dancing, she had to admit that he had been right on that score. She stopped thinking about anything and just lost herself in the ebb and flow of the battle. She was learning more and more to find a calm center within herself from which she had an amazing clarity and could anticipate her opponent’s moves. She found that now. When Spike grabbed her in an attempt to flip her to the ground, she saw that he was slightly off-balance and was able to use that to get his feet out from under him. He fell and she dropped on top of him, pressing an imaginary stake to his chest. "Gotcha," she said, smiling.

The joy of victory was quickly replaced by the realization that she was pressed on top of him and that they weren’t wearing a lot of clothes. The look of enjoyment on Spike’s face didn’t help matters. The room was suddenly way too warm. Buffy stood quickly, brushed herself off and hoped that she wasn’t blushing again. She was saved from the uncomfortable moment when Giles came into the training room.

"Oh, good Buffy, Anya said you were back here."

"Giles! I thought you were in England."

"I was, I literally just came from the airport. I’m only here for a few days, but I needed to see you right away."

"What’s up?"

"The council is... concerned about your resurrection. They want to make sure that there weren’t any ill effects on you, and that you are still capable of acting as a Slayer. They want to see you as soon as possible."

"Oh, great. So there’s a Watcher posse on the way to Sunnydale? Not again."

"No, no... posse, as you put it. They want you to come to them this time. To England."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 7: Ice Cream

They walked in companionable silence through the empty cemetery closest to her house. Ostensibly, they were on patrol, but neither was paying a whole lot of attention to the things going bump in the night.

"So, tomorrow’s the big day," Spike said, stating the obvious. Tomorrow Buffy flew to London for two weeks to meet with and be tested by the council.

"Yeah."

"Nervous?"

"No. Yeah. What if they find something wrong with me? What if they decide that I’m evil and –"

"Do you feel evil?"

"No."

"Well, you don’t look evil, and I know a little something about evil. You’re you. You’re Buffy. You’re the Slayer."

"Am I? I can’t do all the stuff I used to do," she complained.

"You’re getting better every day. You’ll be back to your old butt-kicking form before you know it." He smiled reassuringly down at her.

"Thanks." She stopped walking. "Spike, I’m really grateful for all this, I hope you know that. All this time you’re putting into training and patrolling with me. I know it can’t be easy for you."

"Why, because being a traitor to my kind has taken a slightly more active role? That doesn’t really bother me."

"Actually, I meant... never mind," she trailed off, looking away.

His expression darkened. "What? Because of my feelings for you? You think I’m tortured by being this close to you? Awfully high opinion of yourself, haven’t you, Slayer?" He began walking away from her.

Buffy stood there watching his retreating back, sorry that she had said anything. She chased after him and grabbed the sleeve of his coat, turning him to face her.

"I’m sorry, Spike, I don’t know why I said that." She looked down. "I don’t feel much like patrolling anymore. I think I’ll just go home and curl up in front of the TV with some ice cream, then turn in early." She looked into his blue eyes again. "You wanna join me?"

He hesitated, torn between the enjoyment and pain that came with spending time with her. In truth, being close to her was a kind of torture. "Lead on, then," he finally said, indicating the way to Buffy’s house.

-------------

Buffy unlocked the door on the dark and empty house, Spike following her in. "Where’s the Nibblet?" he asked.

"Spending the night with a friend." Buffy casually tossed her keys on the table, went into the living room, flopped onto the couch, and kicked her shoes off. She grabbed the remote from the table and started flipping through channels without really paying attention to the images that flashed across the screen. Spike grabbed the Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer and a couple of spoons, setting them on the coffee table and sitting on the far side of the couch from her. He watched her for a time.

"Wow, it really is a vast wasteland, isn’t it?" Buffy said, noting that the best things on were the Behind the Music on Donny Osmond and the E! True Hollywood Story on Three’s Company. She flipped the TV off and turned to Spike. "So if you were actually a shy poet in your former life, what really happened the night Dru sired you?" She remembered the version she had gotten in the Bronze several months ago, and was fairly certain now that it wasn’t true.

"You really wanna know?" He looked at her curiously. "Why?"

She wasn’t really sure why she was asking. "Can’t I be curious about your life?"

He shrugged. "I was at a party, as I said before. But the true story is that I sat quietly in a corner scribbling out God-awful poetry for much of the evening." He grimaced at the memory. "When I actually ventured out to mingle, I was humiliated in front of Cecily."

"Who?"

"Woman I was in love with. I was writing the poetry about her, you see. It was that night that I told her I loved her. And she said I was beneath her."

Buffy frowned, remembering that she had said much the same thing to Spike the night he had told her the reedited version of this story. Of course, he had been talking about killing her, but looking back on it, he was probably talking about loving her too. "I’m sorry."

"Yeah, well, it was true. I was beneath her. Anyway, I was shattered, I ran out of the party in tears. That was when I met Dru. Thought she was a pick-pocket at first," he said, chuckling. "She offered me a new world. Didn’t know what she meant, but I wanted it."

"So she drank from you, you drank from her, the rest is history, huh?"

"I suppose."

"Did you kill Cecily?" Buffy asked, swallowing hard, not wanting to know the answer. "You know, after?"

"You’re thinking about Angel, right? Killed his family and his whole bloody village after Darla turned him." He stared straight ahead, his eyes unfocused. He was lost in the past. "I thought about killing her. Wanted to. I did kill several of the people who were at the party that night. I tracked her down. But I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t kill her. I ran from her." He looked at her, a crooked smile on his face. "So you see, Slayer, I’ve always been love’s bitch. From the very bloody beginning."

She studied his face for a minute. For the second time in a few days, she noticed how attractive he was, something that her fear and loathing had never allowed her to see. And he loved her, she knew that now. She reached out and gently touched his cheek. "You aren’t, you know."

His gaze was full of questions. "What, love’s bitch? I beg to differ."

"No, I mean a monster. You aren’t a monster," she said, remembering their last conversation before she died. She looked into his eyes. "I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said you loved me. I didn’t think you were capable of it. I was wrong." On impulse, she leaned toward him and gently brushed her lips across his. To thank him for standing by her, for protecting Dawn, for accepting her return from the dead with no conditions. When their lips touched, she felt something stir within her. She had planned the kiss to be chaste and brief, but for a few seconds she didn’t pull away. He began to kiss her back, but with a certain amount of restraint. It was clear he wasn’t sure what exactly was going on and was afraid of doing anything to shatter the moment. But when she opened her mouth to his, it was all the encouragement Spike needed. His cool hands went to either side of her face and he deepened the kiss, gently exploring her mouth with his tongue. She responded in kind and Spike moaned, melting against her. Buffy still wasn’t very clear on how her thank-you kiss had developed into this, but she did know that this kiss was getting her more aroused than any kiss she could remember. Of course, it had been a long time, even longer if you counted the time she was dead. And, she had to admit, Spike was clearly an amazing kisser. She gave herself to it, pressing against him on the couch and wrapping her arms around him.

His hand drifted down to her thigh and ran slowly up her leg, then to her waist, where her bare skin was exposed between her T-shirt and pants. He ran his hand up her back under her shirt, trailing his fingers along gently in a maddening way that gave her little shivers of gratification. Buffy turned slightly and pressed him against the back of the couch, then climbed onto his lap, straddling him. She started moving the kisses from his mouth down to his neck while he deftly unhooked her bra and brought his hand around to touch her breast.

"Oh, God, Buffy," he whispered.

She pulled back and looked at him. "Let’s go upstairs."

Spike examined her closely. "Are you sure?"

"Is that a requirement?"

He smirked. "If I said yes, I’d be pretty much the biggest wanker in the world. I want you so badly I can hardly see straight."

"Then I say again: Lets. Go. Upstairs." She punctuated each word with a kiss.

"OK."

She slipped off his lap, grabbed his hand, and pulled him to a standing position. Then she turned and led him up the stairs and into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. As soon as it was closed, he slammed her against it, kissing her with a longing that could only be born of a year of needing her. She reached around and grabbed his ass, pulling him against her and feeling the physical manifestation of his need pressing into her. He was devouring her and she couldn’t get enough.

Buffy pushed Spike away, aware of the fact that she didn’t have to temper her strength with him. She reached down and pulled his T-shirt off over his head. He did the same for her, her unfastened bra discarded along with the shirt. He led her to the bed and sat down, pulling her onto his lap again. He took one of her breasts in his mouth and she gasped with pleasure and threw back her head, grasping the back of his neck as he teased her with his tongue. She ground against him on his lap and he moaned appreciatively.

"You know, pet, I’ve got to get these boots off at some point in these proceedings," Spike commented. She rolled off his lap and he bent down and began unlacing the boots in question. In the meantime, Buffy stood up and took off her pants and panties so that when he had finished with the boots he looked up to find her standing naked before him. He gazed at the vision in front of him. "You are so beautiful."

He stood and kissed her, and then reached to his belt and began unfastening it. Buffy lay back on the bed and watched him finish undressing. Then she took his hand tenderly and pulled him onto the bed with her.

The feeling of the length of his body against hers was heavenly. His skin was smooth and cool but not cold. He kissed her passionately, running his hand gently down the length of her body. When he touched her between her legs she cried out and arched her back, and he played with her until she was close to the edge and wild with desire. He climbed on top of her and moved his hips against her, and she spread her legs for him, yearning for the feeling of him inside her. When he entered her, she clutched his shoulders and buried her face in his neck.

They had sex like the fought. It was wild and instinctual and in perfect harmony. A few times Spike lost control of the demon and vamped out, only to shake it off and kiss her, finding himself again in her eyes. At one point they rolled over and Buffy was on top, riding him with her head thrown back and her long hair trailing down her back. When she came, she screamed his name, and the sound and sight of her ecstasy brought Spike to an equally mind-searing climax. Buffy collapsed on top of him and he clutched her hair, kissing her shoulder and murmuring in her ear. After a few minutes she rolled off and lay next to him, her arm trailing over his chest as her breathing and heartbeat gradually slowed. Without another word between them, she fell asleep. Spike reached over and turned off her lamp, careful not to disturb her slumber.

She woke a couple of hours later to see Spike by the light of the street lamp outside, his head propped on his arm, watching her intently.

"What?"

He smiled. "I figured I probably wouldn’t ever get this chance again, so I shouldn’t waste it by sleeping."

"Besides, you do sleep during the day."

"True."

"I’m thirsty," Buffy yawned, "I’m going to get some water. Can I get you anything?"

"Nothing, luv."

Buffy stood up and walked to her closet, grabbing a bathrobe and shrugging into it. As she walked down the hall, she shook her head. Had she really just had the most amazing sex of her life with Spike? She still wasn’t sure what had come over her; her brain had been pretty firmly in the off position throughout the entire encounter. She had realized an attraction for him over the last couple of weeks, but it was a decidedly gigantic step from that to sex. She began wondering how big a mistake she had actually made tonight.

When she returned with the water, Spike had modestly covered himself with the sheet. She sat on the edge of the bed and sipped her water.

"So ... " she said.

"So ... " he replied.

After a long pause she laughed shortly. "Isn’t the awkwardness supposed to start in the morning?"

"Well, you’re leaving in the morning, so I thought we’d get a head start," he joked.

"Right." She took another sip of her water. "It was .. nice."

"Nice?? Are we talking about the same thing? Cause it was a lot more than ‘nice’."

She grinned. "You’re right. It was a lot more than nice."

He sat up and kissed her tenderly, cupping her face with his hand. All thoughts of mistakes and consequences and awkwardness flew out of her head and she returned the kiss. They made love again, slowly, each movement seeming to take an eternity. Afterwards, they both fell asleep entwined with each other, the only sound Buffy’s slow breathing.

She woke again briefly to a gentle kiss on the lips. "It’s almost dawn, so I better go, luv," he said.

"Um-hmm."

"Say hi to the Motherland for me, and give those Watchers hell."

" ‘Kay."

He kissed her again, slipped from the bed, dressed, and quietly left the room. Buffy drifted back to sleep as a joyful vampire raced across Sunnydale to beat the sunrise and a pint of ice cream melted in a gooey mess on her coffee table downstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 8: This Flight Tonight

Buffy stood in her doorway, squinting in the midday sunlight as Giles’ red sports car pulled into the driveway. He hopped out and trotted up the walk towards her.

"All ready to go, Buffy?"

"Yeah. My bags are in the foyer," she indicated.

Giles took one look at the volume of baggage and groaned. "You know, Buffy, we’re only going to be gone for two weeks, have you packed every item of clothing that you own?"

"Hardly," she said, picking up the first of the bags and heading for the car.

Once they were on the road to the airport, Buffy began yawning uncontrollably. Giles glanced at her questioningly. "Sorry, I just didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night," she said in answer to his look.

"Oh? Did you and Spike see a lot of action last night?"

"What?" Buffy exclaimed.

"On patrol. Was there a lot of demonic activity?"

"Oh. Oh. Yeah. Tons of that." Buffy exhaled, glad that Giles had to keep his eyes on the road and probably couldn’t see how furiously she was blushing.

They arrived at the airport without incident and soon were boarding the plane. Buffy sat next to the window and Giles, who immediately pulled out a book and started reading, sat next to her. Since Buffy had woken up with a start that morning, the hours had passed in a flurry of packing and preparation for the trip. She really hadn’t had the time to think about what had happened with Spike last night. Now, she could think of nothing else.

He had been right. It had been a lot more than nice. He did have over a hundred years of experience, she thought, trying not to think about the insane vampire with whom most of that experience had been. Or of Harmony. Or the robot. When it came to Spike’s sex life, pretty much every train of thought went somewhere that she really didn’t want to go. Well, Buffy, that’s what you get for taking up with another vampire. She flinched involuntarily. That was what really bothered her; had Riley been right? Was she attracted to a darkness that she couldn’t find in humans? First Angel, then that stupid thing with Dracula, now Spike. Spike had told her what seemed a lifetime ago (It was a lifetime ago, dummy, you died, remember?) that there was heat and desire between them. Maybe I’ve been attracted to him all along and I just couldn’t see it. She sighed, more confused than ever.

"You’re awfully quiet, Buffy. Is everything all right?"

She looked at Giles, smiling ruefully. "I’m just nervous about this council business," she replied. It wasn’t a lie, exactly, although the Watcher’s Council had been the furthest thing from her mind.

"Understandably. But I promise that I won’t let them hurt you. I wouldn’t even have encouraged you to go, but I really do think that this time they do have your best interests at heart. Well, and theirs too, of course. Besides, I thought a trip, a, a vacation, might be nice for you."

"Actually, yeah, it will. I do need some ... distance from everything going on in Sunnydale."

Giles looked away from her. "I feel guilty, leaving you and returning to England. I feel like I’ve abandoned you. It’s just that after I lost you," he said, swallowing hard, "I couldn’t stay in Sunnydale. I tried, for the others’ sake, but then Dawn moved in with your father, Spike stopped being overtly suicidal, and Willow and Xander both had someone in their lives to support them. I just needed to –"

"I know." She took his hand. "It’s OK."

"You were, you are, like a daughter to me, Buffy. Losing you was the hardest thing I ever faced. Harder than six apocalypses," he said, smiling an ironic smile.

Buffy put her arms around Giles’ neck and hugged him. "Thank you." She pulled away and looked him in the eye. "I’m happy for you and Olivia. I want you to be happy. So don’t you dare think of coming back to the Hellmouth," she scolded, "except to visit."

"All right. So, I didn’t have a chance to ask you, how is the training with Spike going?"

"Fine. Fine," she said quickly, breaking eye contact. "He was right, he knows my fighting style really well, and he’s able to point out the weaknesses in it. I’m making quick progress, I think."

"Good. I must say, he is a mystery to me."

"Yeah. He’s a mystery, all right."

--------------------------

Spike kissed her gently, tenderly touching her cheek. She looked up into his blue eyes as he moved above her in bed. She moaned with pleasure. "I love you," he said, and she closed her eyes, drowning in him. She opened her eyes, and looked into his yellow ones. She wanted him to consume her. He lowered his head to her neck and she felt his fangs rip into her skin. He drank...

Buffy started awake, instinctively reaching a hand up to her neck. Just a dream, she thought, her heartbeat slowing a little. She looked at Giles, who was sleeping as well, his head leaning over to one side and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth. Buffy unfastened her seat belt and gingerly climbed over him to go to the bathroom.

In the tiny airplane bathroom, she splashed cool water on her face, looking at herself in the mirror. This was not good, having these twisted sex-vampire dreams. She hadn’t had one of them since Angel, and she couldn’t say that she’d missed them. What have I done? she wondered. After everything I went through with Angel, after all the heartache and angst, I’ve gotten involved with Spike. Spike, who had a sex-bot made to look like her. Spike, who thought he could prove his love to her by chaining her up and staking Drusilla in front of her. Spike, whom, if he ever got that chip out of his brain, she might have to kill.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. She should stop comparing this ... thing with Spike to what she’d had with Angel. It’s not like she was in love with Spike. She’d just let her hormones get the better of her, that’s all. It had been a really long time since she’d been with anyone, and Spike had been there, all sexy and needy. It’s not like it had to happen again; in fact, it was almost certainly for the better if it didn’t. He was her training and patrolling partner, and sex complicated everything. Running her hands through her hair, Buffy exited the bathroom and headed back to her seat.

Maybe she was worrying about it for nothing. Wasn’t it all about the conquest for him anyway? Maybe by the time I get back to Sunnydale he will have completely lost interest in me, she thought, but deep down she seriously doubted it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

CHAPTER 9: The Return

She walked up to the door of the crypt, not sure whether the thing eating away at the bottom of her stomach was dread or excitement. After spending the last two weeks in London alternately berating herself for what she had allowed to happen, and madly daydreaming about it, she was a mass of confusion now. At the time she had been glad to escape the country before seeing Spike in the light of day (so to speak), but now it just made things more awkward. How was she supposed to act? How was he going to greet her, like his girlfriend or something? She shuddered to think of it.

I can’t do it, she thought. She turned around and started to walk away. Then stopped. Then turned again, and before she could talk herself out of it, she quickly walked up to the door and slammed it open, walking in with her head high.

He was sitting on the stone sarcophagus that she had more than once caught him doing his nails on, reading a book. Spike, reading? It reminded her of visiting Angel at the mansion three years ago; he often read during the day. But she quickly dropped that train of thought; comparing Spike with Angel was just too weird.

She watched him look up and see her, and a look of joy suffused his face. He dropped the book and leapt off the stone slab. Then he hesitated, and the joyous expression was replaced by one more guarded and nervous. He isn’t sure what to do either, she thought. It made her feel a bit more confident, but only a bit.

"Hey," she said.

"The Slayer returns from the council, triumphant, eh? At least, I assume triumphant? You don’t look any worse for the wear." He looked her up and down appraisingly, with just a hint of possessiveness in his gaze as his eyes raked over her. She blushed.

"Well, I suppose it’s triumphant. After much poking and prodding and tests and questions, they decided I’m not evil, so, uh, I’ve got that going for me," she said, trying to affect a Bill-Murray-in-Caddyshack accent on the last part but failing.

"What about the whole reason for your resurrection? Did the all-knowing council let you in on why you got a return ticket to our lovely little plane of existence?"

She hesitated. This was why she came, after all, to tell him about the prophecy which likely involved both of them. She was here on business, she reminded herself. "Kind of. I mean, in as vague a way as possible. They basically said the Powers sent me back to continue the fight, greater battles ahead, yadda yadda yadda."

"That’s it?" he queried incredulously.

"Not exactly, although that is pretty much it on the resurrection. To be honest, I don’t think they understand much more of the why’s and how’s of my being here, not the specifics anyway. They asked me a lot of questions about the last battle with Glory, and what made me do what I did, and why I thought it would work. Then they wanted to know if I remembered anything from, you know, being dead." She smirked. "I told them if I had, I would have gone on Oprah first." Spike chuckled at that.

"Anyway, like I said, they did a lot of tests, not just to measure my evil quotient, but also to see if I was still Slayer power girl. They pretty much came to the same conclusion we did: that the abilities are still there but much of the training is lost." She sighed.

"Did you tell them about your new training partner?" Again, he didn’t say it in a lewd way, exactly, but his voice carried just the slightest hint of innuendo. Buffy took a deep breath. She better tell him now.

"Actually, they asked me more questions about you than anything else. About the chip, about your behavior, how you helped with Glory, what exactly you did, how you took my death…" She smiled a small, sad smile, "which of course I could only tell them about second hand. How you behaved toward Dawn and the Scoobies after I was dead. How you acted when I returned. And when I told them about the training and the help with patrols, they were extremely interested. What exactly we were doing, what sort of training, all that."

"Guess they didn’t approve, huh?"

"That was the weird part, they were more, like, curious and excited. One of them practically fidgeted himself right off his seat."

"Any idea why?"

"Not at the time, but then I talked to Giles about it later. They had asked him a lot of the same questions, and were pretty much equally non-forthcoming. But he knows stuff from before, when the council still trusted him and kept him in the loop." She paused. "Apparently, there’s a prophesy."

"Oh, that’s just bleedin’ wonderful. A prophesy always gets the watcher’s knickers in a twist. What’s this one, then?"

"That’s just it, I don’t really know. But they think it’s about me, and, and you."

"Me, in a prophesy? What am I, bloody Angel or something?"

She winced. "Actually, I guess that’s who they thought it was about, originally. From what Giles remembers, and he never saw it in the original language, it involved something about a Slayer dying and being reborn, and a vampire fighting at her side. I guess a few years ago some of the watchers believed it referred to me being drowned by the Master, and to Angel. But too many things didn’t fit. Like did being revived by plain old CPR count as being ‘reborn,’ and, um, I guess some of the things about the vampire didn’t fit Angel, but I don’t know what exactly."

"Probably described the vamp as a manly stud or something, and…" Her glare stopped him. "Sorry," he grinned. "Do continue."

"Anyway, most of the watchers didn’t buy that it was about me. But now that I’ve been seriously reborn, they are reevaluating with the new evidence. Which has them extra curious about the new vamp in my life." New vamp in my life? Did I just say that? Shit! She cringed. "What I mean is, um, you know, you’re the vampire that’s around and, um, helping me," she finished lamely.

He grinned a little at her discomfort. "So what does the prophesy say? Are we two together going to save the world for puppies and little babies and all?"

"I don’t know! They of course won’t tell me. Or Giles. I assume it has something to do with these greater battles that I’m supposed to be back to fight… Anyway, I thought you should know, since it involves you." She glanced around nervously, unwilling to meet his eyes. Now that Spike was debriefed on the prophesy, she began to feel extremely aware of being alone with him for the first time since he had been in her bed.

After a long, agonizing moment, she finally asked, "So, what were you reading?"

He sighed with exasperation. "Dammit, Slayer, how long are you going to pretend like it didn’t happen? Cause I’m not sure how much of this I can take." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a slightly unsteady hand, leaning against the sarcophagus again.

"I’m not pretending it didn’t happen! I just, well, don’t really know what to say about it."

"Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something. It was a horrible mistake, worst of my life, something along those lines." He smirked at her, but his eyes were sad.

"Is that how you think I feel?"

"Isn’t it?"

"Geez, Spike, I’ve never known low self-esteem to be your problem." She softened. "But I don’t. Think that." He didn’t respond, so she kept talking nervously to fill the space. She started pacing this time, but kept her distance. "I mean, as wise decisions go, sleeping with you doesn’t really rank up there, but – but I can’t exactly regret it either." She turned to him and smiled. "Besides, those watchers can go on and on listening to themselves talk and it gave me plenty to daydream about while I pretended to be listening too." She felt her cheeks color, and was surprised at herself for that little admission.

He grinned, the joy from when she first walked in coming back into his eyes a little. He stubbed the cigarette and walked over to her. She was acutely aware of how close he stood to her, and when he touched her face, she felt herself shiver. "It’s pretty much all I’ve thought about every waking moment of the last two weeks, " he confessed. They stood that way a moment, then he leaned almost imperceptibly toward her. She longed to kiss him, but at the same time the fear came back full force. She backed away.

"I – I should really go." The disappointment was clear on his face, but he didn’t press it. She turned and walked slowly to the door. This was for the best, really. Letting him kiss her again would be a really, really bad idea. Much badness lay there. Kissing would lead to touching, and touching to… Images of what it would lead to washed over her. "Screw it, " she muttered, and whirling around, ran back to him. Their lips and bodies met in a rush, and they were kissing hungrily before she even realized she’d made a decision. She felt one of his hands entwine in her hair while the other pressed against the small of her back. His mouth pressed so hard against hers that it was almost painful. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled back from the kiss a little, running her tongue along his bottom lip seductively. He moaned and began placing a trail of kisses down her neck, causing her to gasp with pleasure. Suddenly he lifted her at the waist and put her on the stone sarcophagus, then pressed himself between her legs and went back to exploring her mouth with his tongue. She was drowning in him again, the desire making her dizzy. She hooked her ankles around his legs and felt his erection pressing against her. She could hardly bear it, she wanted him so badly – but a thought actually managed to insinuate itself into her consciousness.

She broke the kiss. "Someone might come in," she said breathlessly.

"No one bursts in here without knocking except you and a few demons who probably won’t be out and about in broad daylight." His hand had worked its way under her blouse, and he was touching her in ways that made it distinctly difficult to hold her thought. She persevered.

"What about Dawn?"

She had him there. He reluctantly disentwined himself from her, a look of naked longing in his eyes. "Fine, I’ll be good." Then he smiled seductively. "So what are your plans for tonight, my lady?"

"Actually, we were all going to do the Bronze thing, a little celebration for my triumphant return." She hesitated. "Do you want to come? With me?"

"I did, but you made us stop," he said, his innuendo becoming less subtle. She punched him playfully. He sobered. "Slayer, are you asking me on a date?"

She blushed for what seemed like the millionth time. "Well, I’m not exactly ready to share with the class, so no groping me in front of everyone… but I suppose it could have date-like qualities." She hopped down from the stone slab and headed for the door. "We’ll be there around eight."

"Eight it is then," he replied. Buffy walked quickly out into the sunlight, unaware of the idiotic grin that grew on the face of the vampire behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 10: Possession

When Buffy arrived at the Bronze, Willow and Tara had already staked out a table. They called Buffy over enthusiastically.

“Hooray, you made it!” Willow patted the seat next to her. “Ooh, nice outfit!”

Buffy looked down at her short skirt, embarrassed that she had changed her clothes with Spike partially in mind. “Well, I did have a little time to shop in London when I wasn’t being interrogated by watchers or following Giles around museums. Not that I minded the museums, actually. But you know how Giles can be.”

The girls nodded sympathetically. Buffy noticed right away that some of the weirdness had drained out of their interactions with her. I guess they no longer feel like they’re looking at a ghost, she thought, remembering Spike’s comment. “No sign of Anya and Xander yet?” Buffy asked.

Tara pointed onto the dance floor, where Xander and Anya appeared to be groping each other and arguing simultaneously. Buffy smiled and shook her head. “I weep for their children.”

“Oh, there’s Spike,” Willow said, glancing toward the door. Buffy jumped, then tried to look cool.

“Yeah, I, um, sort of invited him to join us,” Buffy commented. “You know, as a thank you for all the time he’s put in helping me get back into shape, uh, with the slaying,” she explained unnecessarily. She watched as Spike worked his way over to them. He always walked like a predator. Two years with that chip in his head and he still looked at humans like they were very much his prey. Or like she was.

“Evenin’ ducks,” Spike drawled, taking the seat next to Tara, and therefore putting a significant distance between himself and Buffy. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief; he was obviously respecting her wish to keep their encounter a secret for the time being.

“Hi, Spike, how’ve you been?” Willow asked, her voice warm. She had come to genuinely like Spike after Buffy died and she saw that his willingness to do good extended beyond a desire to impress Buffy, something she’d suspected since she saw the flowers with no card that he had brought after Joyce died. “I haven’t seen much of you the last two weeks. You been hiding out in that crypt all the time, or did Dawnie finally tie you up and give you that manicure she’s always talking about?”

Spike grinned. “Oh, you know, Red, I’ve been busy. This and that, here and there. My sexual fantasies about Buffy alone take up several hours of every day.” He winked, while Buffy spewed beer out of her mouth. OK, so he’s going to keep the secret, but not without yanking my chain about it, eh? Buffy thought. Fine. Two can play at that game.

“Oh, Spike, I’m sure Willow would love to hear your masterbatory chronicles, but really,” she deadpanned, glancing at her watch, “we only have a few hours.” Tara giggled and Willow looked at Buffy with raised eyebrows. Spike making lewd comments was par for the course, Buffy shooting back lewder comments in return was just weird.

Spike was also a bit surprised, but then he smiled and tipped an imaginary cap at Buffy. “Touché, Slayer.”

At that point, Xander and Anya joined them at the table, still having their argument. “Evil Dead, my man! Up for some pool? Please?”

Spike nodded and the two men headed toward the pool table. “Xander wanted to get away from me because we were arguing about the wedding. He wants to elope. He doesn’t understand that being surrounded by friends and wearing a big, beautiful dress while your friends are wearing poofy, ugly dresses is a basic feminine need,” Anya stated.

“We’re going to be wearing poofy, ugly dresses?” Willow asked.

“Don’t worry about Xander, he’ll come around. I didn’t come back from the dead so that he could run off to Las Vegas and get married without me witnessing it,” Buffy said, patting Anya’s knee.

“We’re going to be wearing poofy, ugly dresses?” Willow asked again.

The girls continued talking together while Spike trounced Xander at pool a couple of times. After a while they returned to the table, Spike carrying two beers, one of which he offered to Buffy. “Thanks,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Come on, An, let’s dance some more. I promise no more talk of eloping,” Xander said, kissing her cheek. Anya smiled, took her fiancé’s hand, and led him to the dance floor.

“Shall we?” Tara asked Willow, and they too went to join the dancing couples.

Buffy and Spike sat in silence for several minutes, watching the dancers. Finally, when the song changed, Spike downed the rest of his beer and held out his hand. “Shall we?” he asked.

She looked at his hand dumbly. “What?”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you think? Dance.”

“Oh! Oh. I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Come on, Slayer, I’m not going to shag you on the dance floor.” He grinned wickedly. “Unless you want me to.”

Now it was Buffy’s turn to roll her eyes. “Fine, let’s dance.” One dance, what harm can it be?

They moved onto the dance floor, surrounded by the pulsating beat of a Sarah McLachlan song. Buffy put her arms around Spike’s neck and he put his hands chastely on her waist, and with a conservative distance between their bodies, they began swaying to the music.

... voices trapped in yearning...

Buffy inhaled Spike’s scent. Cigarettes and leather, and faintly, blood.

..the night is my companion and solitude my guide...

Spike very gently moved his hands up so they were slightly beneath Buffy’s shirt. He caressed her bare, warm skin. They moved slightly closer to each other.

...and I would be the one to hold you down

kiss you so hard, I’ll take you breath away...

God, how does he do this to me? Buffy wondered, aware of every caress, and feeling a little drunk from the beer and Spike’s proximity.

..through this world I’ve stumbled, so many times betrayed...

Spike buried his face in her hair. She smelled of vanilla and autumn leaves and something that was uniquely her.

...you speak to me in riddles and you speak to me in rhymes...

Buffy began to relax a little, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes.

...my body aches to breathe your breath, your words keep me alive...

Spike pulled her closer, stroking her back and guiding her in the dance.

...and I would be the one to hold you down

kiss you so hard, I’ll take you breath away...

Images of the night they spent together flashed through Buffy’s mind. She pressed her body against his and absently stroked the back of his neck with her fingers.

...through this night I wander, it’s morning that I dread...

Spike longed to be alone with her. He had imagined making love to her again about a million times in the last two weeks. He kissed her head gently.

...into the sea of waking dreams, I follow without pride

cause nothing stands between us here and I won’t be denied...

“Uh, guys?”

Buffy was jolted from her reverie by Xander’s voice. She jumped out of Spike’s embrace quickly, glancing guiltily at Xander. The song that had seduced them was ending and another song started up.

Xander offered his hand to Buffy. “May I have this dance?”

She took his hand and let him lead her away from Spike. As they started to dance, she observed that Spike and Anya had started to dance with each other.

“So what was that about?”

“Huh?” Buffy looked innocently at her friend.

“The close dancing with Spike. I thought I’d have to pry you apart with a crowbar.”

“Oh, um, it was nothing. You know, the song...” She trailed off.

“Yeah, Sarah McLachlan can get you in the mood for lovin’. Just be careful; I’m fairly certain Spike is still into you.”

“Me too,” Buffy whispered.

“What?”

“I said, I’ll be careful.”

----------------------

When everyone parted ways outside the Bronze at the end of the evening, Spike and Buffy were left standing together. “Walk you home?” he asked.

“OK.”

They walked in silence for a while. Finally Spike spoke. “So did the council keep you busy every day, or did you actually get to play tourist at all?”

“Giles took me around to see some of the London sights. Big Ben, Parliament, Harrod’s –“

“Horrid’s, we used to call it. It’s a tourist trap.”

“Yeah. And we spent an exhausting day at the British Museum.”

“Hey, now, that’s a great museum. The British Empire did a lot of work pillaging other cultures to fill that museum.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Actually, Giles made an excellent tour guide; he pointed out which of the relics have magical properties and which ones were actually made by demons and stuff. Definitely not part of the regular tour. But it was still exhausting.” They had arrived at her door. “This is my stop,” Buffy said.

Spike pulled her into a long, languorous kiss that left her weak-kneed and with her heart racing. Which he can easily hear, she reminded herself. “Um, Dawn’s home, so I don’t –“

“We’ll be quiet,” he whispered into her ear.

“I don’t know,” she said, torn between her desire and common sense. She knew it wasn’t a good idea getting deeper into this with Spike.

He kissed her again, then gave her his most seductive grin. “Well, I can understand if you think you won’t be able to control yourself. Wouldn’t do for li’l sis to hear you screaming my name.”

She arched an eyebrow, then went to whisper in his ear: “When I get finished with you, you’ll be the one screaming,” she said. He growled and pushed her against the door for another kiss that she felt all the way down to her shoes. She opened the door and they both went inside.

Later, she lay in bed with him spooned around her, his fingers tracing up and down her arm. That’s one nice thing about him being dead, she thought, no body heat to interfere with snuggling afterwards. They had both been quiet, but it had definitely been a challenge. She figured it was a good thing he had accelerated healing capabilities; the scratches on his back and her teeth marks in his shoulder would probably be gone by morning. She smiled, and gradually, fell into a satisfied slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 11: Help Me

The next morning she woke alone. He had ducked out to beat the dawn again, she guessed. She shambled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. As she bathed, her mind went back to the frustration she had felt with the answer the Council had given her about the reason she was sent back from the dead. You weren’t meant to die that day. There are great battles ahead against the coming darkness, and you are needed in those battles. Clearly, the Powers That Be saw that and brought you, one of their warriors, back from the netherworld. She wished she could know more. Then she remembered.

Towel around her hair, she dashed back to her room and started rooting around in her purse. Not finding what she was looking for, she finally upended the purse onto the bed and pawed through the contents. Finally, her fingers closed around a small, white business card.

-------------------

She banged open the crypt door, unwilling to break with tradition. Spike was sleeping on the couch, the television on. She flipped off the TV and poked him. “Spike. Spike! Wake up!”

He looked at her sleepily. “Couldn’t stay away, eh?”

She ignored him. “What are you doing tonight?”

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say, you?” he said, sitting up and grinning lasciviously at her.

She rolled her eyes. “Wanna go with me to L.A.?”

-----------------------

The door to Caritas was below street level. Buffy and Spike went down the stairs and came upon a bouncer who eyed the couple suspiciously. Spike immediately shifted into game face, put his arm around Buffy’s waist, and nuzzled her neck. The bouncer let them pass. Spike shook his game face off as Buffy eyed him suspiciously. “Why’d you do that?”

“This is a demon bar, pet. They don’t usually like a whole lot of humans crashing the party. Especially not –“

“The Slayer! Well, if it isn’t Buffy Summers herself!” A green-faced demon in a fashionable, if extremely loud, blue suit was approaching them as they hesitated in the doorway. On the large stage which dominated the room, a particularly ugly demon woman was belting out Aretha Franklin’s “Natural Woman.”

“You know me?” Buffy asked, staring at the demon in the blue suit.

“Are you kidding? I’ve seen the inside of Angel-pie’s noggin too many times not to know you. And you,” he said, looking at the peroxide-blonde vampire at her side, “must therefore be Spike. Traded in your fangs to be the Slayer’s lap-dog, that’s the line about you ‘round these parts. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he insisted, holding up his hands when Spike moved toward him menacingly. “It’s a valid lifestyle choice. Now ordinarily I wouldn’t want a Slayer in here,” he said, looking around. “Makes the customers nervous. But in your case, I’ll make an exception,” he said, smoothly leading them to a table in the corner of the room.

“Here’s the way it works, if Angel didn’t explain it to you. Which he probably didn’t, being the man of annoyingly few words that he is. You sing,” he said, pointing to the stage, “ I read you. Your aura.”

Buffy looked nonplussed. “Angel didn’t say anything about singing.” Then she was struck with a realization. “You mean ... he sings? Here?” When Lorne nodded, she burst into laughter. It took her a while to regain control of herself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just ... I heard him sing once. He’s terrible!”

“You’re preachin’ to the choir, sister. Anyway, when you’re ready, just go right over there and pick yourself a song.” With that, he hopped on stage and introduced the next act, a couple of obviously drunk vampires who launched into a rendition of “You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feeling.” Lorne went over to the demon woman who had just butchered Aretha and spoke with her for several minutes.

“I don’t know about this,” Buffy said doubtfully as Spike flagged a waiter and ordered a couple of beers.

“Aw, come on, luv, it won’t be so bad.”

“Fine, then you do it.”

“No fuckin’ way. ‘Sides, we’re here for your enlightenment, remember?”

“That’s just as well,” she said, “I bet you’re a worse singer than Angel anyway. I should be glad you aren’t going to assault my ears.”

“I’ll have you know – You know what? Fine. You win.” He walked over and started angrily flipping through the karaoke choices. She sat back and waited, a self-satisfied smile on her face. He’d probably choose the Ramones or the Clash or some punk crap like that, she thought.

Finally, the drunk vamps stumbled off stage and Lorne went up to the mike. “That was great, guys. Weren’t they a hoot? Next we have William, who’s gonna grace us with a little of the Boss.” Lorne exited the stage and took Spike’s seat next to Buffy.

Spike stepped up to the mike, winked at Buffy, and launched into a passable rendition of “Born to Run.”

“Whoa!” said Lorne, looking askance at Buffy. “Well, don’t worry, hon, Angel won’t hear it from these lips.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You and your pet vamp there. And your little bedtime activities,” he added when she continued to stare at him blankly.

Buffy’s eyes widened and she looked at the demon, horrified. “You can see that?”

“Well, he’s devoting a hell of a lot of psychic energy to it, so, yeah. In living color, with Dolby digital surround sound,” Lorne said, looking at her in a way that made Buffy feel naked. She flushed and looked away. Lorne chuckled. “You know, I thought I’d met the only vampire on the planet in love with the Slayer. But here’s another. You must be some lady.”

They watched the rest of the performance in silence. It wasn’t bad, Buffy admitted grudgingly to herself.

Baby this town rips the bones from your back

It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap

We gotta get out while we're young

`Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run

“Why don’t you follow him. Go pick yourself a song, Miss Summers. Go ahead, it’s easier than it looks, once you get started.” Buffy shrugged and went over to the list, while Lorne mounted the stage again and began skillfully bantering with the audience. She flipped through the pages listlessly for a while til she came to one that caught her eye. It was one of her mom’s favorites, and seemed strangely appropriate, although she was afraid Spike might read too much into it. Oh, what the hell, she thought.

“Well, looks like our next performer is ready to go,” Lorne said, checking the monitor that displayed the lyrics. “The Chosen One herself is here to mellow us out a little with a personal favorite of mine by Joni Mitchell. Come on up, Buffy,” he invited, leading the audience in applause.

Buffy hesitantly approached the microphone. I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought. I’d kill Angel if he weren’t dead already. The music started, and Buffy started singing, fixing her eyes on the back wall of the club.

Help me

I think I'm falling

In love again

When I get that crazy feeling, I know

I'm in trouble again

I'm in trouble

'Cause you're a rambler and a gambler

And a sweet-talking-ladies man

And you love your lovin'

But not like you love your freedom

Help me

I think I'm falling

In love too fast

It's got me hoping for the future

And worrying about the past

'Cause I've seen some hot hot blazes

Come down to smoke and ash

We love our lovin'

But not like we love our freedom

Didn't it feel good

We were sitting there talking

Or lying there not talking

Didn't it feel good

You dance with the lady

With the hole in her stocking

Didn't it feel good

Didn't it feel good

Help me

I think I'm falling

In love with you

Are you going to let me go there by myself

That's such a lonely thing to do

Both of us flirting around

Flirting and flirting

Hurting too

We love our lovin'

But not like we love our freedom

By the time she finished she had lost herself in the song, transported back to a simpler time, in the kitchen with her mom, singing along to Joni. She was surprised when a wave of applause hit her and she was jolted back to the present. Lorne was taking the mike out of her hand.

“Wasn’t she super? Wow, too bad there’s only one Slayer in every generation; we could get a real girl group together. Anyhoo, please welcome our next performer, a Parasite demon with a penchant for Journey.”

Buffy reseated herself at their table and found Spike looking at her curiously. “What? Was I that bad?”

“No! No, Slayer, you were ... really good, actually. I’m impressed.” It felt like his eyes were boring into her soul. She looked down and took a swallow of her beer.

“Thanks. You were good too.”

“OK, kids, time for the moment of truth.” Lorne grabbed a chair from an adjacent table and turned it around backwards, straddling it as he faced them across the table. He looked back and forth from one to the other before his eyes came to rest on Buffy. “You want to know why the Powers sent you back. Why you’re alive.”

“Yeah, basically.”

“It’s not an answer you’ll like. As I see it, you’ve spent over five years of your life fighting every evil that gets tossed your way. This guy, for instance,” he said, cocking his thumb at Spike. “You’ve fought and you’ve bled and you’ve sacrificed. You sacrificed your childhood, you sacrificed Angel, and you were supposed to sacrifice your sister. That was the way it was supposed to go down. But you sacrificed yourself instead. Not in the Powers’ game plan. So they did the only thing they could do. They broke the rules, jerked you out of heaven, and sent you back to this world. Just be thankful you don’t remember being in heaven; that would make this a lot harder, I expect.”

Buffy was surprised at that; she wasn’t sure she’d believed in heaven. “But why did the Powers need to bring me back at all?”

“The apocalypse, of course. And I know what you’re thinking, you’ve already been there, done that when it comes to apocalypses, right? But this is different. This is a war, a war between good and evil the likes of which the universe has never seen. And without you, good would’ve been at a decided disadvantage.” Lorne shook his head. “You know, the more people I meet who have reserved front row seats for Armageddon, the more I just want to run as far and as fast as I can away from you. First Angel and his crew, and now you two. And yes, I said you two. You’re part of this too, William. And not just as the Slayer’s boy toy. You’ve got a part to play in this, but as to what that part is, as the immortal Magic Eight Ball says, ‘Ask Again Later’.”

“When will it happen?” Buffy asked, shaking slightly.

“If I knew that, I’d know how long a lease I should sign on this place,” he said, laughing. “I’m not sure if even the Powers know the answer to that question.”

Buffy stood awkwardly. “I’m going to the bathroom. Then we can go.” She fled the table.

Lorne sighed. “I knew she wouldn’t like that answer.” He fixed Spike with his gaze, his voice turning uncharacteristically hard. “You’ve got a hard road ahead of you, vampire. Harder even than your grandsire and his long road to redemption. You walk a fine line between the light and the dark, and you do it with no soul to guide you, nothing but your love for that woman. When I say I don’t know what part you have to play, I mean I don’t know which side you’re going to be on. And I’ve got a hunch that a lot may depend on which side you’re on.” He stood slowly. “You remember that, OK, William? You two have a good night,” he said, walking away from the table, thinking for about the hundredth time that sometimes a little information was way too much for his peace of mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 12: Girl Talk

As the next few days passed, Buffy tried to put all thought of what she had learned at Caritas out her mind. She tried to remember what Spike had told her: all you can do is live each day the way you want to live it and fight the battles you have to fight. It was good advice; Armageddon wasn’t here yet, and until it was, it wasn’t going to do her any good to lose sleep over it. So she focused on the immediate things in her life, which as it turned out, were primarily training with Spike, patrolling with Spike, and having sex with Spike. Her resolve to stop things before she got in any deeper had completely melted. They made out like bandits in the magic shop training room when they were supposed to be working on her fighting skills. They ducked into his crypt for a quickie on the sarcophagus when they were supposed to be patrolling. If Buffy had stopped to think about it, she probably would’ve realized that she was happier and more relaxed than she’d been in a long time. But she was resolutely not thinking about the relationship she was developing with her former arch nemesis.

On the fourth morning after the trip to L.A., Buffy awoke early and decided to make herself a decent breakfast for once: eggs, toast, coffee, the works. She didn’t have anywhere she needed to be for a few hours, Dawn was at school, and Buffy was reveling in the quiet, empty house when the doorbell rang.

"Oh, for –" Cursing under her breath, she went down the hallway and opened the door. Willow stood on the doorstep, looking a little guilty.

"Oh, Willow! Hi! What’s up?"

"Oh, good, I was afraid you’d be sleeping in and that I was going to wake you," Willow said, smiling at her friend.

"Nope, not sleeping. Making breakfast, actually. Wanna join me?" Buffy said, standing back to let Willow into the house.

"Sure! That’d be great. I had half a Pop Tart this morning."

"Breakfast of champions," Buffy joked, heading to the kitchen in front of Willow. "What brings you here?"

"Well, my 9:30 was cancelled, and I thought ... well, I just haven’t seen you in a few days and, and I guess I missed you." She smiled. "I know you’ve been really busy, doing the training and all, and I think that’s really important. I know how much you want to be back to your old self. But I just decided, screw that, I’m going to go force myself on Buffy; to hell with her training," she said, then stopped, looking perplexed. "I didn’t mean force myself on you in a sex way, just –"

Buffy laughed and took Willow’s hand. "I know what you meant. I’ve been spending so much time training and patrolling and ... doing other stuff that I’ve neglected my best friend. I’m sorry." Buffy pulled Willow into a hug. "I guess it isn’t the first time. One of these days you’re going to get fed up with me once and for all."

Willow pulled out of the hug and looked at Buffy. "Never. I’ll always stand by you."

They hugged again, then Buffy went back to cooking breakfast while Willow ground coffee beans and searched through the cabinet for a filter. "So what are you doing with yourself now that you don’t have to go on patrol anymore?" Buffy asked.

"Studying a lot, actually. As a chemistry major, junior year is a bitch. P-Chem is killing me. Which reminds me," Willow said, turning to Buffy. "I know it’s early still and things are a little crazy; I mean, you’ve been back from England for like, a week, and back from the dead for only about six weeks, but ... have you thought about coming back to school?"

Buffy busied herself with putting scrambled eggs and toast on plates. "I have, but ... I’m not sure if I can afford it, to be honest. I’m using the money from Mom’s life insurance to pay for the house and other basic necessities, and Dad gives us money, but there really isn’t much left over for college."

"How are things going with your Dad?" They sat down together at the kitchen table and began digging into breakfast.

"He’s still trying to deal with the story we gave him about me being kidnapped by terrorists and my death being a snafu at the morgue. The last time I saw him he tried to set me up with a psychiatrist to deal with my ‘possible Patty Hearst issues’. But other than that, things are OK. I think he’s relieved not to be directly responsible for Dawn anymore."

"Well, have you talked to him about college? Maybe he’s got some money stashed away," Willow suggested.

Buffy shrugged. "Maybe. I’m thinking about selling the house, but I’m nervous about uprooting Dawn from her home. Hell, I’ll be honest, I don’t particularly want to be uprooted from my home either, when it gets right down to it. So I’m actually starting to think about looking for a job, although not having any ordinary skills is a problem. Funny thing, no listing for vampire slayers in the want ads."

"Well," Willow mused, sipping her coffee, "maybe you could join the circus and do feats of strength. Or … ooh! Maybe you could teach self-defense! That would be cool, and it totally overlaps with your skill set."

"You know, that’s not a bad idea. The self-defense, not the circus," she clarified.

They ate for a while in silence, then Willow spoke up. "Did I tell you that Xander asked me to be his ‘best person’ at the wedding?"

"No! Congrats, Will! So he decided to bend the wedding gender roles, huh?"

"Well, I guess when he realized the best male candidate was Spike, he threw the idea of a best man out the window. It wouldn’t have worked anyway; they plan to get married outside and in the afternoon, and Anya pointed out that Spike bursting into flames would distract attention from her dress." Willow laughed at the image that conjured. "Anyway, I’m excited."

"You should be. You get to hold the ring, plus you get to arrange the bachelor party with the strippers."

"Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Do you think Xander will want strippers?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "This is Xander we’re talking about."

Willow giggled. "You’re right."

"How are things going with you and Tara?" Buffy asked, changing the subject.

"OK. She’s glad that I’m not doing much slaying anymore. She worried a lot when I was patrolling almost every other night, and it made things tense between us." Willow sighed. "She still doesn’t approve of some of the avenues of magic that I’m investigating. We argue about it sometimes. But I guess that’s just the way relationships are, you know?"

"Yeah, hmm, I do vaguely recall being in a relationship, and I do seem to remember there was arguing."

Willow touched Buffy’s arm. "You’ll meet someone again, Buffy. I know you will." Willow picked up her plate and took it to sink. "So how goes the training with Spike? I figured you would’ve gotten sick of him and staked him by now."

Willow’s segue made Buffy flinch, and she began entertaining the idea of telling Willow the truth about her and Spike. A part of her really wanted to. It would be nice to share with her best friend what was going on in her life, like she used to. But she was really afraid of Willow’s disapproval. Even though she knew Willow liked Spike, whether that would extend to approval of Buffy sleeping with him was something else again. She squirmed in her chair. "No, I … I haven’t gotten sick of him." She jumped up from her seat, carried her plate to the sink, and began washing it a little too vigorously.

"So he’s a good teacher?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he really is. We, uh, work well together." She flushed and scrubbed the plate harder.

"Well, good. I know it’s probably been tough for you, getting used to Spike as a full-fledged Scooby. But after you died –"

"I know. Dawn explained." Still scrubbing.

"Anyway, I’m glad you’re OK with it, and that you two get along now, and … Buffy? I think that plate is clean."

Buffy set down the plate, her hands shaking slightly. She kept her eyes focused on the sink. "I’m sleeping with him."

"You – huh?"

She turned and forced herself to look Willow in the eye. "I’m sleeping with Spike."

"Oh! Wow. Oh. OK. I think I need to sit." Willow went back over to her seat at the table and Buffy joined her. "When, uh …"

"The night before I left for England," Buffy said, taking a nervous sip of her lukewarm coffee. She got up to get the pot and topped off her mug and Willow’s. "We were here after patrolling, just talking, and … well, we kind of ended up kissing. And, well, that led to … other stuff. Sex, actually."

"Oh." Willow digested that. "And then when you came back? Oh! At the Bronze! You guys were dancing all close and stuff, and Xander went to save you cause he thought Spike was putting the moves on you, which I guess he was, but then I suppose you were letting him." Willow wound down. "And you guys are still, uh, you know, boinking?"

Buffy looked down at the table. "Yeah."

"Wow." She swallowed some of her coffee. "I guess in retrospect I had noticed you were spending a lot of time together, but I figured that was just business."

"It was, at first. But we talked a lot on patrol, and when we were training. I guess we got sort of close. But if you want a detailed analysis of what I was thinking, or what I’ve been thinking since, I can’t really provide it. There hasn’t been a lot of thinking going on. I’ve just kind of been letting things happen. Which I know isn’t smart," she said, looking at Willow.

"What, are you waiting for me to shake my finger at you and say, ‘Bad Buffy’? I’m not going to do that. You’re a grown up, you can have sex with who you want to." She thought for a second. "As long as this is what you want," she added. "Are you happy?"

And Buffy thought about this for the first time. And smiled. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Well, then, you go, girl!" Willow said, smiling. "Wow, Spike must be ecstatic. I’m surprised he’s been able to keep it to himself."

"Actually, I’m surprised too. But I wasn’t really ready to tell anyone, and I guess he respects that. I’m still not ready to tell anyone else, I don’t think. I mean, you can tell Tara if you want, but I don’t think I can deal with Xander’s disapproval just yet."

Willow made a zipping motion across her lips and smiled. "So, how’s Spike in bed?" Then her eyes widened and she blushed. "No, forget I asked that."

Buffy laughed. "No, it’s OK. He’s … God, Willow." It was her turn to blush. "He’s pretty amazing. The sex is, well, it’s better than it’s been with anyone."

"Really. You know, I always wanted to ask this about Angel, but things turned so bad so fast with him that it was never appropriate," Willow said. "Isn’t the lack of body heat, um, disconcerting?"

"A little. But sometimes it’s kinda nice, like the cool side of your pillow."

"I guess I get that." Willow smirked. "Have you done it in the crypt?"

Buffy groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Once. When we were patrolling. It was one of those, ‘I must have you, here, now’ kind of moments."

"What about the training room?"

"No. Although Anya’s almost caught us kissing a couple of times." Buffy gave Willow a measured look. "You’re really OK with this?"

"I don’t know. It’s weird, and a little twisted, and may lead to badness, but … he’s clearly making you happy. You’re beaming right now. So I suppose I’m tentatively OK with it. I reserve the right to stop being OK with it later on if he hurts you in any way."

"Thanks, Willow." They hugged.

Willow looked at her watch. "I better go, I’m supposed to meet some people for a study session soon. Thanks for breakfast. I really enjoyed our talk. Although I must say I got more than I bargained for."

"Yeah."

Willow started out of the kitchen, then turned back. "Buffy," she said, then hesitated. "Do you love him?"

Buffy fidgeted a little under Willow’s gaze. "I – I care about him a lot…" She trailed off.

"Hmm. Maybe I’m worrying about the wrong person getting hurt." And with that, she left, Buffy staring after her.

Chapter 13: Thought I Knew You

Anya sat behind the counter at the Magic Box at the end of the day, plugging inventory into the new computer. She had dumped the old cash register and installed a state-of-the-art computer system, with a much faster connection to her credit card swipey thing. She hunched over the old inventory book for a minute, then went back to typing.

The bell at the top of the door rang loudly as Xander came in. "Hey, baby," he said, ducking behind the counter for a kiss. He pulled the inventory book off her lap and put his arms around her, smelling her hair as he hugged her. "Isn’t it about time you bagged this for the night and came home with me?"

Anya struggled out of his embrace. "I just wanted to try to finish this so I could get rid of this old musty book once and for all," she said, indicating the old inventory log. She tried to turn back to the computer, but Xander forced her to look at him.

"An, it’s almost 9:00, and you haven’t eaten. I promise this book will be here tomorrow," he said, pulling her off her stool and from behind the counter. "Come home with me."

"Fine. Fine. Let me just get my purse," she said, reaching behind the counter.

"And another thing, Anya, how many times have I told you to actually lock that door after you close? Now that you are managing this place, you are the proverbial Spinal Tap drummer in this analogy." As she turned back to him, he reached out and touched her face gently. "I worry about you when you’re here by yourself after dark."

Anya rolled her eyes. "I know. I promise I’ll be more careful." She moved to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

They stood together for a while, their kiss becoming deeper. But they were interrupted by the ringing of the bell again, and they looked up to see some unexpected visitors.

"Sorry to interrupt, guys," Angel said as he came down the steps, Cordelia, Wesley, and Gunn on his heels.

"You see what can get in when you leave the door unlocked?" Xander said under his breath.

Angel fixed Xander with his gaze. "Call the others. We’ve got a situation."

---------------------

Buffy’s heartbeat began to slow as she lay on her back, savoring the feelings she’d just experienced. She rolled onto her side and looked at the man lying next to her. He was like a drug to her, she realized; she had initially assumed she could stop this any time, but she was realizing that maybe that wasn’t the case.

"What is it, pet?"

"Nothing," she said, kissing him quickly on the lips. "We should get up. Dawn might be back soon."

"No she won’t. She’s at the Bronze with her friends. If you told her to be home by 10:30, then that’s when she’ll be here, or possibly later, but certainly not earlier. She’s fifteen, remember?"

Buffy sighed. "I guess you’re right." And she pinned him to the pillows with a kiss that put all thoughts of Dawn squarely out of their heads. Spike’s arms came up and encircled her, pulling her close against him. After a while, Buffy pulled away and began kissing him seductively down his neck and to his chest. She gradually worked her way down as Spike moaned in anticipation. Her hair tickled his stomach as she teased him with her mouth. Spike arched his back and closed his eyes, overcome with longing for her.

The phone rang.

Buffy looked up. "I should answer that."

"No, I bloody well think you shouldn’t," Spike growled, his voice thick with desire.

"I have to," she said, scooting to the edge of the bed, "it might be Dawn." She grabbed the phone off the charger and pressed ‘Talk’.

"Hello?"

"Buffy, it’s Xander."

"Oh, hey, Xander," she said as Spike groaned and gave her an I-told-you-so expression. "What’s up?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Big honkin’ evil afoot. Cordelia’s had a vision, and it wasn’t of the good."

"As I understand it, they never are. What’s the plan?"

"We’re meeting at the magic shop, ASAP."

"Be there in a few," she said, hanging up. Buffy stood up and started pulling on her clothes, which were scattered around the room. "Get up and get dressed. We’ve gotta go fight evil."

-------------------------

"What’s the story?" Willow said as she and Tara approached the war table in the back of the magic shop. Wesley was working at a laptop computer, pouring through the scanned images of one of Giles’ books. Cordelia looked over his shoulder, absently massaging her temples. "Oh, you guys are actually all here. All Xander said was Cordelia had a vision, so I assumed you had phoned it in."

Angel turned to her. "This is too big. We’ve gotta get in there and put a stop to it tonight."

Willow raised her eyebrows. "What is it?"

"Well, I don’t want to go into a lot of detail before Buffy gets here, but –"

"I’m here." Buffy trotted down the steps and toward the back of the magic shop with Spike on her heels. "What’s the story?" she asked, looking around with a surprised expression. "Must be bad for you guys to have all come from L.A."

"That’s it!" Cordelia yelled, pointing at the screen. "That’s the demon I saw."

Wesley frowned. "Polgara demons. That’s not good at all. They have –"

"Bone skewers that jut from their arms. We’ve run into one before," she added, off Wesley’s look. "And then later we ran into one of the arms attached to something else, but that’s a much longer story. What else do you know?"

Cordelia took a deep breath. "In my vision, I saw six of them, standing around a hole in the ground. I don’t know what exactly was coming out of that hole, but I got the distinct impression that it was going to be very, very bad. I know that in our line of work, things are always very, very bad but I mean it this time. Bad."

"So, anyone got any guesses as to what might be coming out of that hole?" Xander asked.

"This doesn’t sound like your typical Polgara M.O.," commented Anya. "They tend to be the loner type."

"The Rise of the Ba’ar-Pama," Wesley said in a hushed tone, still reading.

"You’re kidding," said Angel.

"The what of the what-what?" asked Xander.

Angel began to explain, circling the table. "The Ba’ar-Pama is an ancient creature of evil. It exists between dimensions, and can be summoned through a fairly complex ritual. I’m guessing that’s what Cordy saw." Angel’s pacing had taken him directly behind where Spike was standing. He stopped walking, and almost imperceptibly his nostrils flared and his eyes widened. "It, ah, it…"

Wesley picked up the story when Angel faltered. "It uses demons like the Polgara, who act very much on instinct without a lot of higher thought. It… contacts them psychically somehow, forces them to perform the ritual that will free it, allow it to exist in our dimension."

"I’m just knowin’ I don’t wanna know, but I gotta ask," said Gunn. "What happens if they free it?"

"Mass destruction. It will make the Mayor’s Ascension look like a picnic by comparison," Wesley said to the room at large.

Everyone shuddered at the thought of that. "OK, so we stop them from freeing it. How do we stop them from freeing it?" Tara asked nervously.

"Buffy, can I talk to you alone?" Buffy jumped at Angel’s voice in her ear, looking up to find him standing next to her. She looked at him questioningly.

"Sure." She headed toward the training room and he followed. She absently listened to the group brainstorming about stopping the Polgara as they went.

When they were in the training room, Buffy turned to Angel. "What is it? Is there something about this Ba’ar-whatever that you don’t want the others to hear? Is it worse than Wesley said?"

"Did you think I wouldn’t know?" His voice was like ice.

"What?" Buffy asked, completely confused.

"You and Spike," he said very slowly through clenched teeth.

"I don’t know what you mean," she said, her mind racing. Please let him be talking about anything else, please –

"Buffy, I’m a vampire, remember?" He grabbed her arm, squeezing it painfully, and said very softly and with dead calm, "I can smell him on you."

Her expression spoke volumes, answering any remaining question in Angel’s mind. If she had just denied it, he might have believed her, the alternative being so repugnant to him. He dropped her arm with disgust and stalked out of the training room. Buffy put her face in her hands.

"The Polgara are strong, but I remember Buffy said if you can break those bone-things off, they’re much more vulnerable," Xander was saying when Angel came back into the room. He didn’t hesitate. In vamp face and before anyone could react, he went directly up to Spike and punched him hard in the face. Completely unprepared, Spike hit the floor hard.

"Bloody – What the hell is your problem?" Spike roared, his own demonic features coming out in reaction to Angel’s.

"You probably wanted me to find out this way, didn’t you?" Angel yelled.

"What?"

"You reek of her." With that, Angel fell on Spike and began pummeling him mercilessly. The others watched in mute horror, unsure what to do.

"STOP IT!" Buffy had come out of the training room. She marched up to the two vampires fighting on the floor and kicked Angel hard in the side, causing him to roll off of Spike. She stood above them, her fists clenched at her side. "We don’t have time for this right now," she seethed.

Angel stood slowly, his human visage returning. He faced off Buffy, then pointed a finger in her face. "What you’ve done makes a mockery of all the sacrifices I made for you," he said coldly, then paced to the far side of the room. Buffy closed her eyes as they filled with tears.

"Angel, Buffy’s right. Whatever… this is, it must wait. We have serious matters to attend to." Wesley turned to Buffy. "We need a battle plan."

Buffy took a large, shaky breath and shook her head as if to clear it. "Right," she said, and it was almost as if she physically donned the mantle of the Slayer. She stood taller and looked around at everyone, the tears gone from her eyes. "Willow, what can you and Tara do about this psychic connection between the Polgara and the Ba’ar-Pama?"

Willow gave Buffy a supportive look, having understand quicker than anyone what was going on between Angel and Spike. "I’ve been thinking about that. I think that if Tara and I link, we can attempt to break the connection. It will take all our concentration, but I think we can do it."

"Good," said Buffy. "Cordelia, where’s this going down?"

"The cemetery over on Main and Chestnut, I forget the name."

"Shady Rest," interjected Xander.

"Fine. We need to split into two groups and flank the demons. I’ll take Xander and Anya; Angel, you bring your people around from the other side. We need axes," she said, and Xander immediately headed for the weapons cabinet in the back. "Go for the arms first, we need to disarm them. Literally." She looked at the witches. "While we’re fighting the Polgara, you two do your thing. Get as close as you need to, but be careful."

Finally, she turned to Spike, who had gotten up off the floor and now leaned against the ladder to the loft. "Spike. You stay with Willow and Tara. Protect them. They won’t be able to defend themselves while they’re doing this spell, and I need you to keep any of these demons away from them."

"Count on it."

"OK, everybody clear?" she said as Xander came back loaded with weaponry. "Great." She grabbed a large battle axe. "Let’s move." And with that, Buffy marched out of the magic shop. Xander and Anya followed her.

There was a beat of silence after they left. Then Spike walked up to Angel and faced him, invading his personal space. "I’m gonna say this once. One, I didn’t know you were going to be here, so no, I didn’t want you to find out this way." He enumerated the points on his fingers. "Two, even if you’re feeling ten times the pain I felt when you took Dru from me, it isn’t enough as far as I’m concerned. And three, if you take any of your jealousy out on Buffy, I will kill you. Count on the fact that as many times as I’ve threatened you, I’ve never meant it more than I do right now." He backed away. "Come on, girls, you two have work to do," he said to Willow and Tara, maintaining his eye contact with Angel. Finally, he broke the contact and preceded the witches out of the magic shop.

---------------------

Buffy kept up her march, forcing Xander and Anya to trot to keep up. "Buffy! Slow down a little, will ya?"

She stopped, then turned around to wait for them. Xander looked at her uncomfortably. "Ah, Buff, what Angel said … Did he mean, uh –"

Buffy’s voice was cold and completely without emotion. "That Spike and I are screwing. Yes. But Xander, we aren’t going to have this conversation right now." She turned around and kept walking.

---------------------

Willow, Tara, and Spike could see this interchange from further down the street, but couldn’t hear what was being said. Spike’s posture positively hummed with anger as he stalked along just ahead of the two witches. Tara and Willow exchanged nervous glances, but neither could think of anything remotely helpful to say. Finally, Tara trotted a little to catch up with Spike and took his cold hand in her own. Spike looked at her with surprise in his eyes and she gave him a small, sympathetic smile as she remembered facing a jealous man-turned-werewolf in the halls of U.C. Sunnydale. They continued walking in silence.

---------------------

The gang from L.A. brought up the rear of the group of warriors led by three people trying to stay as far away from each other as possible.

Gunn smirked. "Wow, I didn’t know there was gonna be an angst parade. I should go get me a lawn chair and a flag."

"Hush," said Cordelia, eyeing Angel, who stalked a few paces in front of them.

Gunn lowered his voice. "So lemme get this straight. The Slayer’s doing the nasty with the Billy Idol reject? The vamp that can’t bite anyone, right?"

Cordelia shrugged. "I guess."

"Has anyone told her she’s a Vampire Slayer, not a Vampire Lay—"

"Gunn, be quiet." This from Wesley.

"I’m just sayin’. And Angel could tell this cause he could ... smell it?" he said, wrinkling his nose. "Man, I wouldn’t –"

Angel turned suddenly. "Yes and I can hear pretty well too, so why don’t you take their advice and shut your mouth."

Gunn raised his hands placatingly. "Sorry, man." They continued on their way to the cemetery.

------------------------

They assembled as three distinct groups. Buffy had already scouted ahead and found the tableau that Cordelia described. She returned and began issuing commands. "They’re over there," she said, pointing. "Xander, you, Anya and I will veer to the north, attack from there. Angel, the you guys take the south, count to sixty, then move in. Willow, how long will this take?"

"I don’t know, Buffy. It could take several minutes."

"We’ll hold them off the best we can. Ready? Go," she said, ducking low and running in the general direction she had indicated. Wesley followed, leading Angel, Cordelia, and Gunn. Spike, Willow, and Tara followed last.

Buffy used a nearby mausoleum to shield herself from view of the demons. They stood in a circle around what was indeed a large hole in the ground, chanting and occasionally throwing things into the hole. She watched, counting. "57 ... 58 ... 59 ... 60. Here we go." She ran out, axe swinging, and beheaded the first demon she came to. His body toppled over and his head rolled into the hole.

"What happened to going for the arms?" Xander yelled as the demons turned to face them.

Buffy shrugged. "I saw an opportunity."

At that moment, with all the demons facing Buffy and Xander, Angel and Gunn leapt out and attacked the two closest to them. Although the Polgara were facing the wrong way, they were aware of a threat this time and their reflexes were faster. Three of them swung around at the sound of the attack from behind and met Angel and Gunn and now Wesley, who had joined them. The remaining two continued advancing on Buffy and Xander. On each side, Anya and Cordelia hung back. They would fight if they had too, but neither was skilled enough in battle to enter the fray at this point.

The fight was ugly. The bone spurs that were the Polgaras’ weapons were long and deadly, and kept the combatants from approaching too closely. Angel finally managed to get in a good swing with his axe and injured one of the demons, causing it to drop to its knees. Stepping on the protruding bone spur and pinning the demon to the ground, he dropped his weapon, grasped the demon’s head and gave a sharp twist. It fell lifeless in front of him.

"Two down already," said Wesley. "This is going quite well."

At that very moment, all four of the remaining Polgaras whipped their heads around as one and looked off to one side. Following their gaze, Buffy could make out Willow and Tara standing several yards away, their hands clasped. Spike stood guard in front of them. Again, as one, the demons ran for the two witches at full sprint.

"You spoke too soon, English," said Gunn, and they ran after the demons.

As the demons approached, they were faced down by a lone vampire who stood leaning almost casually on the handle of his battle axe. He wore his game face and smiled. At this point, violence was just what he needed.

As the first demon met him and prepared to impale Spike with its natural weapon, Spike swung his axe in a complete circle and connected with the demon’s shoulder. The entire arm fell harmlessly at Spike’s feet and the demon roared and staggered backwards. Blood poured from its shoulder, but the demon rebounded and attacked again, as if driven by some unseen force. Spike swung the axe again, this time sinking it deep in the demon’s chest. The demon was defeated, but Spike lost precious seconds dislodging his weapon, and two of the other demons were an instant away from the oblivious witches.

Coming out of nowhere, Buffy and Angel almost literally flew at the two Polgara, leaping onto their backs and dropping along with them to the ground. They had dropped their weapons, but in this close combat the ejectable bone spurs proved difficult to use as well. Still, the demons were very strong and soon got the upper hand.

Angel bellowed in pain as one of the spurs went through his arm, pinning him to the ground. The demon positioned his other arm against Angel’s chest. Angel flinched. It wasn’t wood, but it would hurt.

Buffy had rolled over and over with her demon down a small hill. The demon headbutted her hard and she was disoriented. She struggled, hoping that Willow and Tara would have long enough.

Spike was locked in combat with the last demon. He swung the axe but the Polgara caught it, jerking it out of Spike’s hands and dropping it. Spike roared and threw himself at the demon.

Suddenly, the ground shuddered slightly and a loud clap like a sonic boom was heard. Willow and Tara let go of each other and collapsed on the ground. The three Polgara demons paused, looking around themselves in a disoriented way that indicated that they weren’t sure where they were or what they were doing. It was all their foes needed.

Angel brought his free hand around and cold-cocked the demon, grunting in pain as the bone spur moved in his wounded arm. Wesley, standing over them, swung his axe and beheaded the demon.

Buffy rolled over and gained the upper hand over the Polgara who had been on top of her. Leaping up and holding out her hand, she felt rather than saw Xander’s presence as he slapped his axe into her outstretched palm. With a biting strike, she brought it down like a woodcutter into the demon’s chest.

Spike straddled the demon he had leapt upon and with a swift movement, broke its neck.

There was a moment of silence.

"Willow!" Xander ran to help Willow, who was coming around, into a sitting position. Tara groaned and pushed herself up with her hands, then sat up as well.

The two witches grinned at each other. "It felt like we did it," said Willow.

"We did. But your nose is bleeding again, sweetheart." Tara smiled at Willow as she wiped her nose with her sleeve. They struggled to stand.

Xander supported them on either side. "Yeah, I’d say you definitely did something. It was real wrath of God-type stuff. Ground shaking, loud thunder clap, and then the demons all looked like they were waking up after a night of binge drinking."

Wesley and Gunn came up to congratulate the two witches. Cordelia helped Angel dislodge himself from the demon and then she wrapped a makeshift bandage around the wound in his arm.

As most of the group congratulated themselves on their success, three stood apart from the warm celebration. Angel’s eyes met Buffy’s, and for a long moment they stared at each other. Then without a word, Angel ripped his eyes away and turned, walking toward the cemetery exit. Buffy watched him go, a look of pain in her eyes.

Cordelia smiled apologetically at the others. "That’s sort of our ride home." She, Wesley, and Gunn said their goodbyes and turned to follow Angel.

As they left, Gunn could be heard saying, "Man, I am not looking forward to this ride."

Buffy met Spike’s eyes on the other side of the group. He took a hesitant step toward her. She turned away and fled the cemetery.

"Buffy!" Spike called, preparing to chase her, but Willow put a restraining hand on his arm.

"Let her go."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 14: Throwing Stones

Buffy avoided everyone the next day. She didn’t go to the magic shop, she didn’t answer the phone, and in the afternoon she went for a long walk in the woods near the caves outside of Sunnydale. After stopping by home to grab a quick bite to eat and her stakes, she headed out on patrol, purposefully going to one of the smaller, less popular of Sunnydale’s several cemeteries that didn’t need to be patrolled as often. She trudged through the night that matched her black mood, realizing that the only problem with going to a lesser cemetery was that there was nothing there to kill. And she really needed to kill something.

"You are a hard woman to find." She whipped around to find Spike standing behind her. He threw his half-smoked cigarette on the ground and stepped on it with a black-booted foot, then approached her hesitantly.

She didn’t reply. Spike searched her face for some clue as to how to proceed, but got none. "Are you OK?" he asked softly. Buffy shrugged, then turned and started walking. Spike fell into step beside her.

"I’m sorry he found out like that. You may think I wanted it, or that I enjoyed it, but I swear I didn’t."

"I know."

"I hate that he’s hurt you again. It makes me want to rip his throat out."

"He was right," she said softly.

Spike stepped in front of her to force her to stop walking and look at him. "What do you mean, he was right?"

Buffy raised her voice. "He was right! I have made a mockery of his sacrifices!"

"Buffy, no. That isn’t –"

She interrupted him. "The reason he left was so I could meet someone normal, get married, and have a family." Angel’s words from two and a half years ago swam through her mind. You deserve more. You deserve something outside of... demons and darkness. You should have someone who can take you into the light. "And what have I done instead? Gotten involved with a soulless vampire."

Spike flinched with pain at her words, trying to keep his anger in check. "Buffy, you think that’s what Angel’s on about? I don’t. There was one more reason he left, am I right? ‘Cause you two couldn’t be together in every sense of the word. He’s just jealous that I can give you something he can’t."

"Yeah. We have sex. And yeah, I’m sure he’s jealous. But that doesn’t make his words any less true," she said coldly.

"Who bloody cares what Angel thinks?" Spike yelled, frustrated. "I don’t. And neither should you. He’s been out of your life for over two years, Buffy. And," he gasped sarcastically, "he hates the fact that you’re involved with me. Well, news flash, he hates me, so that’s not much of a surprise."

"This isn’t just about Angel," Buffy said, looking at the ground.

"Isn’t it? Because it seemed to me that things between us were going pretty well before angst boy came swooping into town yesterday."

"Spike, just because we have great sex doesn’t mean –"

"Oh, I see. Because that’s all this is to you, right? Fucking. Nothing more. I guess that green poof in L.A. was right on the mark, calling me the Slayer’s boy toy."

Buffy’s face took on a pained expression at that. "I didn’t mean that that’s all it is, but …" she trailed off. Then she took a deep breath and steeled herself. "I can’t do this anymore. This … thing between us. It has to stop."

It was the moment he had feared since the first time she’d kissed him on her living room couch. The moment when this spell would be broken. The fact that Angel had been the catalyst of it only made him more angry. Forcing his pain down as far as he could, he did the only thing he could think to do. He lashed out at her. "Just like that, right? Now that everybody knows how you’ve been slumming with Spike, high-and-mighty Buffy turns up her nose and runs back to the Scoobies, dignity partially intact. ‘Don’t worry, Xander, I was just using him for sex. Fortunately, I have come to my senses, and will sit here with my knees together, waiting to sink my claws into the next beefsteak with a soul of gold to come along.’"

"You bastard –"

"Yes, Buffy, call me names. Maybe if you pretend that you still hate me it will help you sleep at night." With that, he turned and walked away from her.

----------------------

Slam! The sound of the front door banging shut made Dawn jump in her seat at the kitchen table. She watched as Buffy stormed into the kitchen, dropping her backpack of stakes onto the counter with a clatter. Buffy reached into one of the cabinets and pulled out a glass, which quickly slipped out of her hand and fell with a crash onto the floor.

"Fuck!" she screamed, then looked guiltily at her sister. "Sorry."

"Yeah, you might spoil my virgin ears," Dawn said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "What’s up with you? Did you and Spike have a fight about this Angel thing?"

Buffy looked at Dawn with a horrified expression. "What do you know about that?"

Dawn rolled her eyes again. "Do you think I spent the day in a cave? I was at the magic shop this afternoon after school, and I heard Xander and Anya whispering about it. Then Spike came in around sunset looking for you, and no one knew where you were, and everybody was acting all weird around him, and he was obviously upset and worried that you were avoiding him. Besides, I had already figured out that you two were boinking."

"You what?"

"Buffy, I heard him in your room." When Buffy flushed and looked even more horrified, Dawn clarified. "Not while you were doing it. Ewww. I just mean I heard him talking one time."

"Oh." Buffy got the dustpan and broom and swept up the broken glass.

"So I ask again, did you and Spike have a fight about this Angel thing?" Dawn pressed.

"Dawn, I don’t wanna talk about it right now," Buffy said, getting down another glass and going to the refrigerator for the pitcher of lemonade.

"Well I do. I’m worried that you might’ve hurt Spike’s feelings, and if you did, I wanna smack you upside the head."

"It’s a little more complicated than that."

"No it isn’t. Spike loves you. Angel’s been out of the picture for a long time. What’s so complicated? Nothing’s changed except now people know about you two."

"Look, this wasn’t … He isn’t exactly the kind of guy you settle into a long term relationship with, all right? He’s a vampire. With no soul."

"Oh, here we go again with the soul thing. What is a soul, Buffy? Have you ever sat down and really asked yourself that question? Do you know the answer? Cause if so, call up the heads of all the major religions; I’m sure they’d be interested. Spike is good. He has been for a long time. He does good things. And I don’t just mean killing demons because the chip prevents him from killing anything else. I mean things like helping me with my homework. Or telling Tara she looks pretty. Or helping Anya move. Or loving you. That stuff goes way beyond the chip, although the chip may be what allowed it to happen in the first place."

Buffy stared at her little sister stubbornly.

"Buffy, why can’t the fact that you wanna be with him and he wants to be with you be enough?"

"Maybe I don’t … want to be with him."

"Right, so the fact that since you got back from England, you’ve been happier than I’ve seen you in recent memory, that’s just, what, a coincidence? Or the fact that you spend like twenty hours a day with him?"

"I don’t –"

"Yes you do. You may not believe that you love him, and he may not either, but I think you do." Dawn crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest and glared at her sister.

"Dawn, I know it seems simple and romantic to you. But life isn’t like that. Star-crossed lovers end up alone and hurting. And sometimes a vampire is just a monster after all," Buffy said, fleeing the kitchen and up the stairs.

------------------------

She couldn’t avoid the Magic Box forever, so Buffy headed over there the following afternoon. Xander had just gotten off of work and was reading the newspaper in the back while Anya flitted amongst several customers. Buffy slowly dragged herself over to the war table and slumped into a chair.

"Hey, Buff," he said lightly, glancing at her over the paper.

"Hey." After a beat, she said, "I was in the market for some disapproving glares and maybe a lecture, so I thought I’d head on over."

"A lecture?"

"Yeah, you know, vampires are evil, having sex with them is gross and disturbing, something along those lines." She said, smiling a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

"Is this about Spike, or are you putting out for all the vamps these days?" he joked. When she just glared at him, he softened. "Did he find you last night?"

"Yeah," she said, looking away.

"What happened?"

"I ended it."

"Why?"

She looked at him curiously. "I was expecting something more along the lines of ‘Woo-hoo’."

He smiled. "Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t thrilled to learn that you and Spike were shagging. I personally think it’s … not the best choice you ever made. But if you broke it off just because of what Angel said, well, that’s maybe not the best choice either."

"What Angel said just made me think about things for the first time. What was happening with Spike ... didn’t involve a whole lot of thinking."

"I suspected not."

"I just remembered that part of the reason that Angel left was so that I could have a normal relationship. Get married, have a family. All that stuff. And those things require a human, last I checked."

"Yeah, I guess they do." He paused as if wondering if he should say what he was thinking. "The thing is, Buffy ... after I got over the initial shock and, ok, a little disgust, I realized that you’ve been so happy lately. For the first time, you’ve seemed at peace with everything, at peace with being Buffy and the Slayer. Do you think that some of that is because of him?"

"I don’t know. Dawn said the same thing, about me being happy, I mean."

"Are you happy now? Do you feel relieved that it’s over?"

Buffy didn’t answer his question. "I just can’t go through this again, Xander. I can’t wake up every morning wondering if today is the day that he turns evil on me. I can’t grow old every year while he stays the same. I can’t spend the daylight hours sitting alone and waiting for the sun to go down."

"Buffy," Xander sighed heavily. "I don’t want to say this, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from Anya, it’s that sometimes being blunt is valuable, even if it’s uncomfortable or hurtful." He paused. "The thing is, you’re the Slayer. Even though you’ve gotten a second chance at life, you risk your life every day. You fight in a war. We all learned the hard way that even you, possibly the best Slayer to ever walk the Earth, are mortal. Or would’ve been, if you hadn’t been forced to come back and fight some more. My point is, maybe you shouldn’t be thinking so hard about the distant future."

"What are you saying, Xander? I’m gonna die young anyway, so it doesn’t matter what I do?"

"No, I’m saying that it matters that much more what you do. Every day is precious. For all of us, but especially for you. You need to figure out what you want and what’s best for you and do that. Don’t make your choices cause you think Angel or Giles or I won’t approve. ‘Cause you don’t have time for that bullshit. Just ... live your life."

"I can’t believe you’re advising me to go back to Spike."

"I’m not, exactly. I’m advising you to follow your heart. To be honest, yes, I’m afraid he’s bad for you. I’m afraid he’ll hurt you. I want you to find someone with a pulse and a more varied wardrobe. But more than that, I want you to be happy."

Buffy leaned over and hugged Xander. "Thanks."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don’t know."

------------------------------

Buffy walked alone through the darkening park, her hands in her coat pockets. She thought about Angel’s horror and disapproval, about Dawn’s blunt lobbying on Spike’s behalf, about Xander’s understanding and advice, about Willow’s surprise and eventual happiness for her. And she thought about Spike. How she felt when she was fighting with him. How she felt when she was dancing with him. How she felt when she was in bed with him, or talking with him, or patrolling. He had always seen right through her, had always seemed to know what she was thinking before she knew herself. It had once been a source of annoyance for her, but lately she had found it comforting.

I wasn’t fair to him, she thought. She decided to go see him, still unsure what she would say when she got there. The least she could do was apologize for her attitude earlier, and hear him out.

When she got to the crypt, she stood outside for a moment. The thought of seeing him made her heart beat faster. Running a hand through her hair, she pushed hesitantly on the door. "Spike?" she called. No answer. She went in, but it was dark; he wasn’t home. She decided to wait for him, so she fumbled around where she knew he kept a lighter. Lighting a candle, she turned to the interior of the crypt. What she saw made her heart skip a beat. His television was against one wall, smashed. None of his other belongings were anywhere to be found.

He was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 15: Near You Always

Spike stood at the edge of the dock, a small, weathered bag in his hand. He watched as lightening flashed across the water and listened as thunder followed a couple of seconds later. The storm was getting closer. He watched a man walk down the gang-plank of the large freighter. With a single movement, he stood threateningly in front of the man. "Where’s this boat going, then?" he asked.

"What? Oh, ah, the UK, I think. Swansea."

"That’ll do." He had never much liked eating the Welsh, but he supposed that wouldn’t be an issue this time. He let the man scamper away, then pulled out his cigarettes, still staring at the ship. A few raindrops began to fall, splashing onto the dock and the shoulders of his leather coat.

"You know, I was just thinking to myself the other day that I hadn’t driven a man out of Sunnydale since I came back from the dead and it was getting to be about time." Spike whirled to see Buffy standing several paces away, smirking slightly. He didn’t say anything in response, so she continued, stepping closer to him. "You’re just going to leave the DeSoto?"

"Can’t drive to Europe, luv," he said, turning back to the water.

"No, I suppose not. Still, you and that car ... it doesn’t seem right."

"Why are you here?" he asked coldly.

"Because I went to find you at your crypt and you were gone."

He turned to her again, angrily throwing his cigarette to the ground. "What, did you get lonely? Aching for a good shag? Sorry, pet, not playing that game with you anymore."

Buffy let his harsh words wash over her. "I’ve gotten a lot of advice over the last twenty-four hours. First from Dawn. Did you know she’s known about us for a while? She told me that nothing about this is complicated. That you wanting to be with me and me wanting to be with you should be enough. Then from Xander. He said breaking things off because of Angel wasn’t the right choice. He said I should just figure out what I want and what’s best for me and do that." It was raining harder now, and the thunder began to drown out her words. She moved closer to him. "So I wandered around for a while, wondering what that was. You see, it’s easy to say ‘live each day the way you want to live it.’ It’s easy to say ‘do what’s best for you.’ It’s something else again to figure out what the hell that is. So I decided to go see you. Not because I had figured it out, but because I ... I just wanted to see you. And to apologize. Hell, maybe I was lonely, like you said. So I went, and you were gone."

He frowned, watching the rain dripping off her eyelashes. Finally he spoke. "I spent six months loving you, wishing for a scrap, a crumb, anything from you. I hated you, I wanted to kill you, I ached for you, I –" He stopped and swallowed, looking at the ground. Then he looked up again into her eyes. "When I finally knew, really understood, that you would never love me, I thought I couldn’t hurt any more than that. But then you died.

"When you came back, I was just so relieved to be able to look at you again. Just to get to see your face. Even knowing that it would never be more than friendship – that hurt, but it was worth it. Then it happened. For whatever reason, you let me touch you. You let me make love to you. I thought I was in heaven. I spent the next two weeks trying to convince myself that I hadn’t dreamed it. But you came back, and it was real. You and me. And I knew. I knew you didn’t love me, that you just needed to feel needed and wanted. You needed me just to be there, no questions asked. I knew deep down that eventually something would make you come to your senses. ‘Cause I’m not that bloke, the one you’re waiting for. The one who’s going to take you away from all this.

"And that’s why I have to leave. Not because I’m not him, but because I don’t give a damn that I’m not him. I’ll cling to you until it either kills us both or until I drag you down into this dark place with me. I won’t be a gentleman about it. I can’t give you up, not now. Maybe not even when I’m on the other side of the planet, but at least you’ll finally be free of me then."

Tears filled Buffy’s eyes as she listened to his words. They spilled over onto her face and mingled with the rain. "You didn’t let me finish."

He filled his dead lungs with air, exhausted by his confession. "Then finish."

"I stood in your crypt for a long time, staring at that damn TV. Just stood there. And that was when I realized that my little sister was right," she said, grimacing slightly.

"What about?"

"We’ve been fools, you and me. I’ve spent the last few weeks convincing myself that I didn’t love you, and you’ve been doing the same, telling yourself that your love was still as unrequited as ever. But it wasn’t true. Standing in that stupid crypt, candle wax burning my fingers, staring at your ruined television, I realized..."

He moved closer so that their faces were inches apart. "What?" he finally asked.

"I realized that I love you," she said simply.

He stared into her eyes, willing it to be true. Unable to stand the intensity of his gaze, Buffy tried to look away, but his hand gripped her face and forced her to look at him. Finally he spoke. "This time, I think being sure is a requirement."

She took him by the shoulders, pulling him into a kiss of startling intensity. She pressed against his entire length and he felt her warmth through her wet clothes. Her teeth raked against his lip, drawing blood. Finally she pulled away. "I love you," she said breathlessly.

This time, he knew it was true. He dropped to his knees in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her stomach. They stayed that way for a time, until finally she stepped backwards, causing him to look up at her questioningly. "We should get out of this storm."

"I suppose we should," he said, not moving. "I love you, Buffy."

She pulled him to his feet and they headed away from the dock, the rain still falling in sheets out of the sky. Buffy moved in a daze, still a little bit astonished at what she had realized about her feelings for Spike. She looked down at her rain-soaked clothes. "I must look like a drowned rat," she said.

Spike groaned as they walked. "Only you would be worried about the way you look right now. We had quite a moment back there, you know. Real romance novel stuff." He looked up at the sky, smiling. "The rain just makes the setting that much more gothic, and – AAAAGH!"

Buffy had gotten a little ahead of him as he mused on the romance of their encounter. When he screamed, she whipped around to see him lying on the ground a few feet away, and where he had been walking, the severed end of a downed power line crackled. "Spike!" she screamed, running over to him, wondering what effect an electric shock would have on a vampire.

Spike was groaning and lying on the ground. "Bloody hell," he rasped, trying to push himself up on his elbows. "What the hell was that?"

"It looks like you stepped on a downed power line," she said, relieved that he seemed to be mostly OK.

He sat up, holding his head. "That was … interesting. Like what the chip does inside my head, but all over my entire body." He looked at her and smiled. "So much for the romance."

She giggled. "Yeah, especially with your hair standing on end like that," she said, and the sight of him fussing with his hair made her laugh harder. The ridiculousness of the entire night and the emotional overload caught up with her and she collapsed on him, giggling hysterically. A few people abroad on that miserable night stared in amazement at the couple sitting on the side of the street, soaking wet, laughing and kissing as if completely unaware of their surroundings.

----------------------------

"Let’s go in through the kitchen; I don’t want to track mud all over the floors," she said, dragging him by the hand around to the back of the house. Still laughing, they stumbled in through the kitchen door. Buffy started to reach down to take off her shoes, but Spike pushed her up against the kitchen counter, kissing her passionately. Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck, losing herself in the kiss.

Dawn, who was attracted by the noise they had made coming in, watched them with an amused expression for a few seconds before making them aware of her presence with a loud, fake clearing of her throat. "A-hem!"

Buffy and Spike broke apart quickly, Buffy frowning at her sister’s interruption and Spike grinning guiltily at Dawn.

Dawn smirked at them. "I see Buffy came to her senses then," she said.

Spike smiled down at Buffy. "Yeah, I guess she did."

Dawn nodded her head at that. "Good. I’m going over to Lisa’s house to study for our Algebra II exam. I’ll be back in a few hours." She started to head out of the kitchen, then turned back to them, an evil grin on her face. "Oh, and guys? I do have to eat in here, you know, so no sex on the kitchen table. Take it upstairs." Then she dashed out the door before Buffy could react.

"When did my little sister get so crude? Was that your influence?" she reprimanded Spike.

He shrugged, smiling. "I’m sure it’s Xander’s fault." He looked at her. "You’re shivering, pet."

"Yeah, well, I am completely soaked through," she said, her teeth chattering a little.

"Yeah, I noticed," he said, unable to tear his eyes away from the way her shirt clung to her skin. "Let’s take Dawn’s advice," he whispered in her ear. "I’ll warm you up."

In her bedroom, she let him slowly, almost reverently undress her and towel her dry. She flushed, embarrassed by his intense gaze. "What is it, luv? I have seen you naked before," he remarked, smiling.

"I know. It’s just ... different now."

"Why? Because now you love me?"

"No. Because for once I’m not locking a part of myself away when I’m with you." They continued staring into each other’s eyes as he dropped the towel on the floor and continued caressing her skin with his hands. She kissed him gently, enjoying the feel of his soft lips against hers. Buffy ran her fingers through his drying hair and down his bare back. She relaxed back against the pillows, pulling him down with her. For a while they just clung to each other, needing to feel the simple contact of skin on skin. Soon, though, their sexual need for each other began to take over, and Buffy moved her hips against him in a way that made him moan softly in her ear.

She rolled over onto her back, looking into his blue eyes again. "Make love to me," she said. While they made love, Buffy found that she was intensely aware of everything: every caress, every kiss, every wave of pleasure that washed over her.

Afterwards, she curled up next to him with her head on his shoulder, their fingers entwined. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it gently.

"Slayer," he said, "Do you realize how bloody wrong for you I am?"

"Yeah."

"Then why? Why stop me from leaving? And don’t say because you love me; you have more common sense than that." He turned and looked her in the eye appraisingly.

She shrugged. "Right now, you make me happy. Right here, right now, this is what I want. I know it might not last. I know eventually it might kill us both. But I can’t bring myself to care about that. I deserve ... I deserve a measure of happiness in my life." She kissed him. "You give me that."

He kissed her back, wishing fervently that at that moment they could just freeze time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 16: We Few, We Happy Few

"Are they here yet?"

Willow and Tara stood in the doorway of Xander and Anya’s apartment. "Nope," answered Xander, who was holding a big bowl of popcorn. "Come on in." The girls followed him into the living room and Willow deposited a Blockbuster bag in front of the TV.

Anya came out of the kitchen, carrying chips and a bowl of guacamole. "Oh," she said disappointedly, "I thought it might be them. Not that I’m not glad to see you guys," she clarified, setting the food down on the coffee table.

Xander flopped down on the couch, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "Does anyone else feel like this evening isn’t as much about watching movies as it is about observing the freak show that is Buffy and Spike?"

"Xander, be nice," Willow warned. "We need to be supportive of Buffy in this."

"I am supportive," Anya proclaimed. "I don’t see what the big deal is. Spike is a good guy now, plus he’s a hottie. If Buffy wants to have sex with him, I say, more power to her."

"It’s not so much the sex," Xander said, then made a face. "OK, it is a little bit. But what I mean is, now they’re, what, a couple? He’s her boyfriend? How sick is that?"

Anya stood over Xander, her hands on her hips. "Xander, you are the one who told her to follow her heart; you told me so. Are you saying that was bad advice? Because I don’t believe that it was."

Xander pulled Anya onto his lap, kissing her. "No, I don’t think it was bad advice." He sighed, then looked at the others. "It’s just going to take some getting used to, is all."

"I bet he’s good in bed," Anya mused.

"She told me he is," Willow said, a little excited to be the one with the spicy gossip.

"She talked to you about that?" asked Anya, all ears. "What else did she say?"

At which point Xander put his hands over his ears and began singing loudly and tunelessly. "La-la-la-la-la!!! I’m not listening, I’m not listening!"

The doorbell rang, and for a second they all stared toward the door as if all the demons of hell were on the other side of it. Anya was the first to snap out of it. "I’ll get it," she said, hopping off Xander’s lap and dashing to the door.

"It’s not like the six of us haven’t done stuff together since Buffy’s resurrection," Tara said. "Maybe it won’t really be different." But when Buffy and Spike walked in holding hands, Xander gave Tara a look that said it was indeed different.

"We brought margarita fixings," Buffy offered, holding up a grocery bag. "Direct me to your blender."

Anya and Buffy headed into the kitchen. Spike flopped down on a vacant chair, grabbing a chip and dipping it into the guacamole on his way. "So let me guess. I’m gonna judge from your awkward expressions that you’ve been talking ‘bout us. Am I right?"

"No, no, no, no, no ... yes," said Xander, putting on his best Eric Idle impression.

"Spike, we’re just ... getting used to the idea of the two of you as a couple, that’s all," said Tara. "But I don’t want you to feel like you’re getting major Scooby scrutiny. I know that can be uncomfortable," she said, thinking of herself when Willow had first told the others about their relationship.

"Look, I don’t really care what you lot think. But Buffy does, and I don’t want her unhappy."

"Neither do we," said Xander seriously, staring Spike down. After a few seconds, he decided to lighten the mood. "Hey, if this means no more visits to Sunnydale from Angel, I’m all for it."

Spike snorted in agreement. The whir of the blender and Anya’s laughter could be heard coming from the kitchen.

"I talked to Giles on the phone day before yesterday," Willow offered. "I told him about the Ba’ar-Pama situation, and he was suitably impressed with our victory. I left out all the uncomfortable love-triangley parts, though," she added, glancing at Spike apprehensively. "Much as he’s glad to be away from the Hellmouth, he still likes to be kept up on all the demonic goings-on here."

"So how’s he liking being back in the belly of the Watcher’s Council beast?" asked Xander.

"OK, I guess. On the one hand, the head guys like Quentin Travers don’t really trust him or keep him completely in the loop, but on the other, apparently he has like a legendary reputation with the younger Watchers. Five years on the Hellmouth means he’s faced like twenty times more demons than anyone else there." She giggled. "He said one guy even asked for his autograph."

"So are they just going to let Buffy keep flying solo? I can’t imagine with this huge Armageddony battle somewhere on the horizon that the Council is just going to leave Buffy alone. It doesn’t really fit," Xander commented.

"I know. But Giles believes that Quentin is almost certainly keeping him in the dark when it comes to decisions about Buffy. You know, on account of his ‘unprofessional attachment’ to her."

"Well, what good does it do us having him on the inside then?" Xander asked petulantly. "How are we going to be prepared for when they send the next Wesley-clone to try to keep the Slayer in line?"

"You know, Wesley wasn’t anything like you guys described," Tara interjected.

"Yeah, he must’ve found a surgeon in L.A. to remove the pole from his ass," said Xander as Anya and Buffy reentered the room, juggling drinks.

"Who?" asked Buffy as Spike jumped up and took a couple of the drinks from her.

"Wesley," answered Willow, taking a sip of her margarita. "Yum."

"So what movie did you get for us, Will?" Xander asked. Buffy settled in the chair Spike had occupied and he sat on the floor at her feet.

"Oh! I got Henry V!" she said, jumping up and going over to the VCR.

Xander groaned. "Shakespeare? I don’t know, I was kind of hoping for something a little less thinky."

"Xander, you should give it a chance; it has a little of everything," she said, popping the tape in. "It’s Shakespeare, it’s got a gruesome battle scene for the guys, and it’s got Kenneth Branagh for the ladies."

Spike sputtered at that. "Kenneth Branagh? I mean, he’s a fine interpreter of Shakespeare, I suppose, but, come on, the man has no discernable upper lip. How can you find him attractive?"

Willow shrugged, grinning, as she plopped back onto the sofa and snuggled with Tara.

"This is the girl who’s always had a crush on Giles that we’re talking about," Buffy said, laughing.

As the evening wore on, the group became a little more comfortable with each other, laughing at each other’s jokes as they watched the movie. However, Xander was still hyper-aware of Buffy and Spike, his eyes drawn to the way Spike absently caressed Buffy’s leg as he sat on the floor at her feet. Xander shook his head and dragged his eyes back to the screen, repeating what was becoming almost a mantra in his head. I will support Buffy, I will support Buffy ...

"See, that’s what I was talkin’ about," Spike said, looking up at Buffy and gesturing to the screen during the St. Crispin’s Day speech. "That’s the kind of speech you’ve gotta give to the troops before we go into battle."

She raised an eyebrow. "I don’t know, hon, I’m not much for speeches."

Hon? thought Xander.

After the movie, Buffy yawned and stretched. "I’ve gotta get home early, guys. I actually have something major going on early in the morning."

"Demon?" asked Willow.

"Job interview," replied Buffy. "I took your advice, Will. I’m going to try teaching self defense."

"Staking Vampires 101?" asked Xander.

"No," she said, rolling her eyes. "But if the class seems to be ... aware of what goes on here in Sunnydale, I might try Running Away from Vampires Brandishing a Cross 101."

Spike and Buffy left the apartment and got into his car, which he steered toward her house. "I meant it about going to bed early," she said. He grinned at her lasciviously. "I mean going to sleep early," she reiterated.

He sighed. "Fine, I’ll just drop you off then, like a proper date." But when they got to her house, it was at least five minutes before she actually got out of the car and headed up the walk, straightening her clothes and grinning furiously.

Spike headed back to his crypt, musing on the evening. It was somewhat tiresome to him, playing the part of a normal boyfriend. He liked the Scoobies fine in relatively small doses, but spending an entire evening with them ... Oh, well. If it made Buffy happy, he’d put up with it. He savored the memory of her kisses as he opened the heavy crypt door.

His vampire senses registered several things very quickly. There was someone in his crypt, make that three someones, and they had human heartbeats. He felt the sensation of one of them swinging a weapon at him, so he quickly dropped and rolled, coming up in a defensive position facing the doorway, where the threat had been. He prepared for another attack, but before it came, the sound of torches being lit made him spin to face the interior of the crypt. Standing there were two men: one was older, holding only the torch, and the other was in his thirties and in addition to the torch, held a crossbow that was trained on Spike’s chest. A quick check behind him verified that the third man was also armed with a crossbow. Wonderful, he thought. And who are these tweed-clad buggers here to threaten my life in the middle of the night – Then he realized.

"Excuse me for askin’, but you gentlemen wouldn’t happen to be from the Watcher’s Council, would you?" he said, holding his hands out in as non-threatening a manner as he was capable of.

"That’s correct, William," said the older man. "Name’s Quentin Travers."

"Oh right, Quentin. The Slayer’s told me all about you," he said, smirking. "What brings you and your thugs to my humble abode? If you’d like, I can point you to the nearest Holiday Inn –"

"We don’t have time to bandy words about, William. I’ve had an exhausting flight, and I would like to have a lie down, but my job always comes first. So allow me to get right to it and tell you a story."

Spike said nothing, just raised an eyebrow questioningly. The Watchers placed their torches in the wall sconces of the crypt.

"You and the Slayer are ... close, aren’t you?" asked Travers.

Spike tried to read what was behind Travers’ question, but failed. "I’ve been helping her with her training, going on patrol with her, if that’s what –"

"That’s not what I mean. I mean, you are in love with her."

"What of it?"

"And she ... she is in love with you." Travers said, looking a little bit like he had eaten something unpleasant.

"Is there a point to this?" Spike asked angrily.

"Are you familiar with the concept of a forked prophesy?" Travers asked, changing the subject.

"Enlighten me," Spike said, backing up slightly so he could keep both of the armed men in view.

"A forked prophesy contains two prophesies that are mutually exclusive. Either one will happen, or the other. Somewhere along the line, and it’s never at all clear exactly where, an event occurs that causes one of the forks to be chosen. At that point, one prophesy becomes true, the other, false. Are you with me so far?"

"I believe so, but maybe some visual aids would be helpful," Spike said sarcastically, moving slightly closer to the Watcher standing closest to Travers.

Travers ignored the comment. "Are you aware that there is a prophesy about you? You and the Slayer?"

"Is that right?" Spike asked innocently, not wanting to give anything away.

"Yes. A very important one. Some used to believe this prophesy referred to your grandsire, Angel. Others, myself included, thought it referred to some future Slayer and vampire. Now we know that it is indeed Buffy that this prophesy is about. But the vampire is not Angel, it is you."

Spike was tiring of this. "Well, that makes me feel awfully special."

"Don’t you want to know what the prophesy says?" Travers asked curiously.

"I’m gonna take a wild stab in the dark and say it’s one of these forked buggers," Spike answered, again moving almost imperceptibly toward the armed Watcher to his right.

"It is. One fork shows you and the Slayer fighting together on the side of good in the great battles to come. In this event, the forces of good likely win the war against evil, and the universe is saved from eternal darkness and chaos."

"And the other fork?" Spike asked, curious in spite of himself.

"The other fork also deals with the union between you and the Slayer, but the circumstances are different. In this outcome, the Slayer is pulled away from the light. The two of you fight for the forces of evil. Good is defeated; chaos reigns supreme."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Let’s just say to fulfill a personal curiosity on my part; I wanted to see how you would react."

"Well, I’m gonna start with ‘sod off’," sneered Spike.

Travers chuckled, then continued his lecture. "Prophesy is never absolute, William. Things can always be done to avert prophesy, even one as central as this one. And as much as I’d like the left fork to be the true one, I am not willing to allow for even the most remote possibility that it will be the right fork. In short, I am here to ensure that neither fork is possible. It will make the great war more difficult for the Slayer in the end, but we feel that even without you, she has a better than even chance of prevailing."

Spike could tell where this was going, but he continued playing dumb. "So, what, you here to chase me off? ‘Stay away from the Slayer,’ all that rot?" He again moved just the slightest bit to the right.

Travers laughed outright at that. "Chase you off? That’s very funny, William. Very funny. But, no. We aren’t here to chase you off. We’re here to kill you."

Spike was unsurprised at that. "So why the long lecture first? Why not just do it? Why not send one of the famous Council retrieval squads?"

Travers shrugged. "Again, primarily professional curiosity. I wanted to meet William the Bloody, killer of two slayers, lover of another, to whom such great prophesy is tied. As far as the retrieval squad goes, well, not to insult you, William, but it hardly seemed necessary. Rupert and Buffy explained the chip in your brain in full to us. We know you cannot hurt us."

"How are you planning on explaining on my sudden absence to the Slayer?" Spike didn’t care what the answer was, he just needed to stall long enough to get in position. If he could disarm the two Watchers quickly enough, the resulting headache might not matter. He might have a slim chance of getting out of this.

"We weren’t planning on explaining it, actually. She will never know that we were here."

Now, thought Spike, once more into the breach. With lightening motion, before the slower humans could do as much as blink, he had jerked the crossbow out of the hands of the nearest Watcher, swung around, and fired at the arm of the one near the door. The crossbow bolt buried itself in the Watcher’s arm and his own crossbow clattered to the floor. Spike braced himself for the searing pain in his head.

It didn’t come.

Without missing a beat, Spike turned on Travers, his demonic visage coming to the fore. "Quentin, my friend, it would seem that you’ve made a tactical error."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 17: Nothing Else Matters

Spike’s mind raced. The chip wasn’t working. Or hadn’t worked one time; was it a fluke? One way to find out, he thought. As he stared into Quentin Travers’ horrified face, he sensed the uninjured Watcher preparing to attack him. Keeping his eyes on Travers, Spike’s hand shot out, grasping the Watcher by the throat. He squeezed, and the Watcher gurgled. Still no pain, he thought. Wearing an expression of boredom, he flung the Watcher against the wall of the crypt. His head hit the stone with a sickening crack and he collapsed in a heap on the floor. Spike smiled.

Quentin was in shock, knowing that he had made a mistake that would probably cost their lives. “The chip in your brain ...”

“On an extended leave of absence,” Spike commented, wondering at the same time what exactly had made the chip stop working. Then he remembered, and he laughed out loud. The power line. It had been a week ago now, but Spike was long out of the habit of checking to see if the chip was still working.

Quentin began quickly backpedaling. “Perhaps you and I can come to a compromise on this issue–“

Spike turned around to see the other Watcher, blood soaking the arm of his coat around where the bolt still protruded, reaching for his crossbow on the ground. Slowly, Spike walked over to him and kicked the crossbow into the corner. Ruthlessly, he then kicked the Watcher in the head and watched as he also slumped to the floor, unconscious. Then he looked up at Travers, shaking off his game face. “Sorry for the interruption. You were saying?”

Travers’ face was covered with a thin sheen of sweat. “The Slayer won’t be pleased if you kill us,” he said desperately.

Spike chuckled, coming over to Travers and facing him down. “The Slayer’s never been too fond of the Council.”

“That’s as may be, but it’s a long way from that to cold-blooded murder. For her, anyway.”

“What kind of compromise you wanna offer me, Quent?”

Travers scrambled mentally. “Money. I have access to ... thousands of pounds. I can put you on a ship to any place in the world, with enough money to happily live out an eternity.”

“So we’re back ‘round to chasing me off now, are we?” Spike said, inhaling the thick smell of fear in the room and relishing it. “But you said it yourself, Quentin: I love her. Why would I leave her?”

“Because she’ll kill you when she finds out you’re back to your old tricks.”

“Who says I’m back to my old tricks? You gentlemen came into my home and threatened my life,” he said with mock seriousness. “I was just defending myself.”

“And you haven’t fed off any humans?”

“Not a one,” said Spike innocently.

Quentin shook his head. “It won’t last. The Watcher’s Council has been studying vampires for almost two thousand years. Never once in all that time have we known a vampire to deny his nature, with the possible exception of your soul-burdened grandsire. Not one time in recorded history. If you think you are different, you are sadly mistaken. You are a vampire, and I fear that the moment that chip stopped working, a fork in the prophesy of you and the Slayer was chosen.” He lowered his head sadly, suddenly looking older than his years. “And I was too late. The fate of the world was in my hands, and I was too late.”

“Shut up,” Spike said angrily. “You’re wrong about me, and you’re wrong about the prophesy. Besides, you underestimate Buffy if you think I can corrupt her so easily.”

“Do I?” Quentin asked. “We’ve watched her very closely over the years; much more closely than she or Giles imagined. We watched as she developed the hardness necessary to defeat Angel, whom she loved deeply. From then on, she was a warrior first, a woman second. She locked a part of herself away so that she could be the Slayer she had to be. Since she was resurrected, though, things have been different. You know it. She has unlocked that part of herself that she had locked away. She is a woman first, a warrior second. She focuses on the pleasures of today rather than the duties of tomorrow. I believe that you will corrupt her very easily.”

“NO! Shut up! You’re wrong!” Spike roared, backhanding Travers across the face. The blow knocked him into the sarcophagus. He fell to the ground and was still.

“Wrong. You’re wrong. Wrong,” Spike whispered distractedly, pacing in a tight circle. The smell of blood filled the air. It was intoxicating. Spike’s eyes fell on one of the Watchers lying on the floor of the crypt. He knelt down by the man. He was young; barely thirty, probably. Spike could hear his heartbeat, faint but steady. He could sense the blood moving through his veins. He felt his demon rising to the surface unbidden, which only heightened his awareness of the Watcher’s life force. Before he could stop himself, he reached out, pulling the unconscious man into his arms. He stared at the man’s neck for a long moment, then instinct took over and he sank his fangs in.

As he began to drink, an image of Buffy flashed before his eyes. He growled, closing his eyes in attempt to shut out the vision. Then he thought of Dawn. Dawn, who looked up to him; Dawn, who depended on him to protect her. Dawn, who trusted him more completely that anyone else, including her sister.

Suddenly Spike was on his hands and knees, vomiting blood. He sobbed, both as a man who was disgusted by what he had just done, and as a vampire who was sickened by what he could not finish. Looking around in horror, he fled the crypt.

When he finally stopped running, he found himself in one of Sunnydale’s darker alleys. He backed against the wall, sliding down into a hunched position on the dirty ground. He was finally free, after two long, miserable years, he was free of the chip that had kept him from being what he was meant to be. Finally free, he thought, and the irony caused a bitter laugh to escape his throat. For the first year, he had thought about it every day, every hour. Every time he sat at the bar at the Bronze, watching the humans dance and drink and flirt around him, every time he had to drink blood from a microwaved mug, every time he looked at the Slayer’s throat, he had railed against the injustice of it. He had burned with impotent rage. Every time he slept, he had dreamed of drinking blood as it jetted from a human throat, and had woken in a cold sweat.

But things slowly changed. His dreams about the Slayer changed, much to his chagrin at first. He still longed to be free of the chip, but at the same time he longed for Buffy. To touch her. To kiss her. And to drink her. He began changing his outward behavior to try to win her approval. Nothing worked, but he kept trying, and gradually his reasons for doing what he did changed. He mourned when Joyce died, not just because she was Buffy’s mother, but because Joyce had been kind to him. He protected Dawn, not just because she was Buffy’s sister, but because he loved her: the way her eyes got wide as saucers and she shivered when he told her stories of his bad old days, her innocence and her teenage rebellion and her capacity for love.

Dawn was the only thing that kept him alive after Buffy died. He had sworn to protect her, and she had needed him, so he had gone on with his undead existence for her. He had slain vampires and demons for her. Eventually, he even came to care about the others: Willow, Tara, Anya, Giles; even Xander. There was a part of Buffy in each of them. He became so busy with his responsibilities to Dawn and to the Scoobies that he sometimes went a day or more without thinking much about the restrictions of the chip.

When Buffy came back, it was like he had been given a second chance. A chance not only to act like a good man with her, but actually to be one. And she accepted him, as a friend, as a training partner, and then finally as a lover. When she looked at him, he no longer saw hatred and revulsion in her eyes. He knew it was much more than the monster in him deserved. As time passed, he went for longer and longer periods without thinking about drinking from a human throat. It was a nagging itch, not an all-consuming agony. When he sat at the Summers’ kitchen table, helping Dawn with her history paper as he absently crumbled Weetabix into a mug of blood, he didn’t even think about what he was missing. Even when he kissed Buffy’s neck, the sensation of the blood pumping beneath the surface of her skin was an added thrill, not the torturous frustration that it once would have been.

He probably could have gone for many years like that, loving Buffy and her sister, fighting evil, playing pool with Xander, being almost human except for his diet and aversion to sunlight. But now everything had changed. Now he could go back to his old life. He could take his natural place in the food chain. He could even seek out Dru again. Except he didn’t love Dru anymore. The chip doesn’t control my feelings, he had told Buffy, and he had been right. In a way, he wished that it had controlled his feelings. Then he could make a clean break from the humans that tied him to Sunnydale.

Now he was in the worst possible position. He had two choices. He could return to the ways of a vampire and betray everyone in the world that he cared about, everyone that he loved. Or he could try to turn his back on his nature forever, try to continue being whom he had become in the last two years. But was that even possible? Could he really deny his nature when there was nothing standing in his way but his own willpower? His mind came back to Quentin Travers’ words: not one time in recorded history. Thinking that he could be the first soulless vampire to just decide to stop feeding on humans was folly.

Then Spike remembered the prophesy. Travers had had no reason to lie; he was planning on killing Spike tonight. The moment that chip stopped working, a fork in the prophesy of you and the Slayer was chosen, Travers said. Could he have been right? Was Spike destined to destroy Buffy, to turn her into some hollow shell of herself? In a way, he had said so himself: I’ll cling to you until it either kills us both or until I drag you down into this dark place with me.

But this was Buffy. The thought that she was corruptible, that she could be turned to the dark side like some stupid George Lucas antihero, it was ridiculous. She would never deny her calling, even with someone she loved. She’d proven that time and again. Spike shook his head violently; it was impossible. Except... the Watcher had said that she had unlocked a part of herself. It eerily echoed Buffy’s own words: for once I’m not locking a part of myself away when I’m with you.

Spike trembled at the thought that he could turn that bright, shining girl into a monster. He wouldn’t. He’d rather she had stayed dead. He’d rather die himself.

He looked at the sky. He had apparently crouched in that alley for hours; it was getting close to dawn. He made his way back to his crypt. When he got there, it was empty; only a blood stain on the stone floor indicated that anything had happened that night. The Watchers must have come to and fled. They wouldn’t give up though; within forty-eight hours a retrieval squad, maybe two, would be crawling over Sunnydale armed with crossbows and hunting him.

Spike sat down on his ratty couch and picked up a sweater that had been left across one of the arms. Buffy had dropped it there two nights ago when they were on patrol and she had gotten too warm. Clutching the sweater, Spike began the seed of a plan. By sunset, he knew what he had to do. She is a woman first, a warrior second, Travers had said. Time to change that. His heart breaking, he slowly rose and left the crypt.

Spike staked out a spot behind another mausoleum, his door in view. She would look for him eventually, when he didn’t show up that evening. Sure enough, after an hour she appeared, bounding through the door and calling his name. After a minute, she came out again, looking around crossly. When she continued on, out of the cemetery, he followed.

She walked to the Bronze, humming quietly to herself. He watched her, keeping his distance. At the door to the club, Buffy went through followed by a large group. Behind the group was a lone young girl, maybe a year older than Dawn, clutching a purse and trotting in high heels. Her friends were probably inside already. Before she could open the door, though, she was grabbed from behind and flung against the wall.

Spike held one hand over her mouth as he pressed against her. “Not a sound, OK, pet?”

Her eyes wide and pleading, the girl shook her head.

He smiled. “Good, ‘cause we have a show to put on in a few minutes.” Taking his hand off her mouth, he pulled the girl to him and swung around, keeping a close eye on the door. To anyone else, they looked like a couple making out. To Buffy, who knew the signs, they would be immediately obvious. As the girl trembled against him, Spike vamped out and buried his face in her neck, waiting.

After a minute that seemed to last several hours, Buffy came out of the door.

Spike sunk his fangs into the girl’s neck and she screamed.

Buffy whirled, already reaching for the ever-present stake in her pocket. And froze.

Spike looked up at her, then threw the girl at his feet, where she lay motionless. He slowly licked the blood from his fangs. And smiled.

Buffy ran.

When she was out of sight, he shook off his game face and bent down to the girl at his feet. “Get up, girl,” he said shaking her. She had passed out, which had been convenient. “Get up! I hardly drank anything, you stupid bint! Wake up!” She gradually came to, then screamed again at the sight of Spike. “Go on then,” he said, “Run away.” She scrambled to her feet and ran. “That’s a good girl,” he said softly, watching her flee into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 18: Do What You Have To Do

Buffy stood in the shower, not moving, just letting the water wash over her. A few tears slowly ran down her face. She could feel her heart hammering away in her chest, and she wondered absently how it could still be beating. Surely it was finally broken for good this time. Her shoulders began to shake as the tears turned into sobs, and she wrapped her arms around herself protectively.

After a while, she noticed that the water was turning cold. She turned off the shower, then slowly pulled back the curtain and stepped out. She stood before the bathroom mirror, looking at herself and shivering. The image of Spike feeding flashed in front of her eyes. Her stomach churned. She dropped to her knees and bent over the toilet, emptying the remaining contents of her stomach into the bowl. She felt more tears running down her nose. Eventually, when she stood, the crying had stopped and the tears were replaced by a cold, hard look in her eyes. She rinsed out her mouth and washed her face, then dried off. Wrapping the oversized towel around her body, she walked into her room.

Buffy stood before her closet for several seconds, then with a vicious movement, pushed all the clothes to one side. There they were. She hadn’t worn that black leather jacket and red leather pants in over two years. Probably because they symbolized an ugly part of her. A part that could be ruthless. A part that could kill someone she cared about. Methodically, she dressed: underwear, a black tank top, the pants, the coat. Boots. She pulled a brush through her damp hair, letting it hang freely around her face. That was the way he liked it. She observed her reflection in the mirror. All dressed up in big sister’s clothes, she remembered Faith saying. If she had ever needed Faith’s sense of self-preservation, it was tonight. Because a part of her just wanted to die.

She went downstairs and knelt before the weapons trunk. Opening it, she pulled out most of the contents: two crossbows, a short-handled battle axe, bottles of holy water, crosses, stakes. At the very bottom, she found what she was looking for. She pulled out the smooth wooden stake, running her other hand absently over its surface. Mr. Pointy, Kendra had called it, and Buffy had laughed. She had put it away after Kendra died. After she was killed by Drusilla. Buffy’s hand tightened involuntarily on the piece of wood. With a small shake of her head, she shoved it into the inside pocket of her jacket. She stood quickly and before she could talk herself out of it, walked out of the house.

---------------------------

He sat on the top of a tombstone outside his crypt, slowly smoking a cigarette. She would come. She would need to compose herself, she would need to prepare, maybe she would need to have a talk with the Scoobies. But she would come. She was the Slayer, and it was her duty. He would have to count on the fact that she would do her duty as she always had, that it wasn’t already too late. Because this was the only way. Knowing what he knew now, knowing himself, this was the only way.

It wouldn’t be simple or quick. He would have to fight her with everything he had. If she sensed for a moment that he had planned it, it wouldn’t work. She had to believe in his evil, and in his determination to kill her. And she would have to believe it when he lost. In a way, it was fitting. They fought together better than they did anything else. He smiled, remembering the feeling of her body against his. Well, almost anything.

His sharp eyes detected movement through the trees. He watched as she walked toward him, not yet aware of his presence. He smiled again. She was beautiful, and she was dressed for battle. He licked his lips, a part of him excited to dance with her. Even if it would be the last time.

---------------------------

She saw him leaning against a tombstone, watching her. As always, he wore the long leather coat that he had taken off the last slayer he’d killed. She remembered the way it smelled when she was in his arms. Her heart beat faster and her empty stomach churned. No, if I think about him that way, I’m dead, she thought. She began taking deep, calming breaths as she approached him.

"Slayer!" he called. "Been waitin’ for you."

"I’m here," she said simply, stopping several feet away. Memories flashed through her mind.

She stands poised in the alley behind the Bronze, stake in hand, having just dusted a vampire. Spike comes out of the shadows slowly clapping his hands. She looks at him with a confused expression on her face. "Who are you?"

"You'll find out on Saturday."

"What happens on Saturday?"

"I kill you."

"Guess you saw that this serial killer is no longer in prison," he said, referring to her own description of him with the chip.

"I saw."

"So I asked myself," he said, steeling himself for the words he had to say, "which is better? Keep following the Slayer around like a puppy? Pretending to be in love with her? Fucking her when she lets you?" She flinched at that, but he pressed on. "Or do I go back to being the man I should be? Do I kill the Slayer? Or better yet," he said, moving closer to her, swaggering and taking a long drag off the cigarette, "do I sire you? ‘Cause then, you see, I could have the best of both worlds. I can be free," he said, throwing down his cigarette, "and I can still fuck you."

"You’ve never beaten me, Spike, what makes you think you can today?" she said, stilling her trembling hands.

"Cause now, you’re in love with me." he said, smiling a cocky smile.

She smiled back. "Why don’t you ask Angel how much that kept me from sending him to Hell."

"As I think I’ve told you many times before, pet, I’m not Angel." And with that, he punched her in the face.

They fight inside an abandoned church, Kendra with Spike and Buffy with an assassin from the Order of Taraka. Buffy backs into Kendra, grabs her by the arms and the two do a tandem flip.
"Rather be fighting you anyway." says Spike.
"Mutual."

She immediately retaliated, delivering first a hook to his jaw and then a punch to his stomach causing him to stagger back a step. She pressed her advantage, delivering a roundhouse kick to his head. Through it all he watched and admired her, a part of him enjoying the battle and even the pain, and a part of him heartsick at what he had to do and what it must be doing to her. He had counted on the fact that she was strong enough to do this, and so far, he appeared to be right. Just as she was strong enough to make the hard choices in the past.

They are inside the magic shop, long before it belonged to Giles. Spike faces off Buffy and Angel. "You're not friends. You'll never be friends. You'll be in love till it kills you both. You'll fight, you'll shag, you'll hate each other till it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends. Real love isn't brains, children, it's blood, it's blood screaming inside you to work its will. I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it."

With the next kick, he grabbed her foot, jerking it toward him and causing her to hit the ground. Before she could recover, he dropped on top of her, straddling her and squeezing his legs together to hold her down. He reared back and hit her in the face, splitting her lip. He sneered at her. "Been doing a lot of thinking over the last twenty-four hours," he said, "tryin’ to decide what part of the last two months I hated the most." He hit her again, causing her head to rock back against the ground. "Wasn’t screwing you; that was damn fun. Maybe it was pretending that Xander had two brain cells to rub together? Nah. Listening to the wiccan dykes talk about their relationship problems? Nah." His fist connected with her face a third time. "Then I decided it was playing nursemaid to your kid sister. You should’ve let that waste of space jump to her death when you had the chance."

They fight in the afternoon sunlight, the Gem of Amarra on his finger. "Whatever, guess you're not worth a second go. Come to think of it, seems like someone told me as much." He punches her. "Who was that? Oh, yeah. Angel."

He saw the rage fill her eyes. With a primal scream, she wrenched out from under him, bringing a foot up and smashing it into his face. His hand came up to his face as blood spurted from his nose. Buffy jumped to both feet, and before he could rise from his kneeling position, she kicked him in the stomach, making him double over on the ground. She stood panting in front of him. "When I think of all the chances I had to kill you that I passed up, it sickens me," she said.

Buffy slams a palm to his chest, sends him flying back from Giles’ doorway. He scrambles out of the direct sunlight, his blanket beginning to smoke. "What part of ‘help me’ did you not understand?" he shouts desperately.

"The part where I help you."

Spike rose in front of her, a small seed of worry in his stomach. She could have staked him then, when he was on the ground, and she didn’t. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on hurting her. Please, Slayer, he thought, be strong enough for this. "Come on, Slayer, you should’ve done me by now. I’m just one vamp, baby. Is this all you got?"

They are in the Bronze. "But all we need..." He comes closer, seductively. Buffy eyes him with caution but lets him come. "...Is for one of us, just one, sooner or later, to have the thing we all are hoping for."

"And that would be what?"

He gestures for her to come closer. She does. He leans in, lips beside her ear. Whispering just for her to hear: "One. Good. Day."

In answer, she threw several quick punches which he blocked just as quickly. Gradually, both of them lost themselves in the battle. A human observer would’ve had difficulty following the separate movements of their bodies. It was almost beautiful.

"You think we're dancing?" she asked.
"It's all we've ever done."

Buffy finally got in a kick to his head that was so hard and well-timed that it knocked him to the ground. She looked down at him, disgust on her face.

"Come on. I can feel it, Slayer. You know you want to dance." he said, still holding her.

Buffy locks eyes with him, feeling his intensity, his desire. After a beat, she responds. "Say it's true. Say I do want to..." She shoves him brutally backward, breaking the embrace. He falls hard to the ground. "It wouldn't be you, Spike. It would never be you." She tosses the wad of money at him. It scatters over him and the ground. Her expression is filled with contempt. "You're beneath me."

"Just tell me one thing," she said, her heart pounding in her chest.

"What?"

"Was it all a lie? From the beginning? Did you ever love me?"

She is chained up inside his crypt. He grabs her chin and forces her to face him. "Look at me! I... LOVE... you. You're all I bloody think about... Dream about... You're in my gut, my throat... I'm drowning in you, Summers."

He flinched internally. Come on, Spike, don’t stop now. Break her heart. It’s the only way to save her. He grinned, getting to his feet again. He looked her in the eye. "Had to stay alive somehow, pet. You should admire my foresight." He shrugged. "Guess I just saw which way the wind was blowin’."

"And you... You wouldn't be able to touch me. Because this– this thing with you – it's wrong! I know it! Not a complete idiot!" He gestures to his heart. "You think I like having you here? Destroying everything that was me until all that's left is you in a dead shell."

With movements almost too fast for even him to follow, Buffy landed two quick punches to his head. Spike recovered quickly, grabbing her in an attempt to flip her to the ground. As they struggled, Buffy saw his balance shift slightly back on his heels. He was off-balance. Closing her eyes, she used it. His feet came out from under him. He fell and she dropped on top of him. She ripped the stake from her coat, raising it above his chest. And she stopped.

They are in his crypt. "It wasn't supposed to be —"
"Don't. That thing… it's not even real." Buffy says, referring to the robot. She starts to go, but then stops at the door. She isn’t sure how to say it, not even looking back. "What you did for me, and Dawn, that was real." She turns to him. "And I'll never forget it."

For a second, nothing moved. The night was silent. Spike opened his eyes. "Do it," he hissed.

She stared at him, eyes wide. "You did that on purpose."

"What?"

"I know your fighting style too, Spike, probably better than my own. You did that on purpose."

"No– "

"Yes." She lowered the stake, exhaustion and emotion making her hands tremble. "Why do you want me to kill you?" she said, her voice small.

He flipped her, and now he was on top of her. "That what you think?" he sneered.

"Yes."

"You’re wrong."

"Prove it." She tilted her chin, baring her neck to him. "Kill me. Drink me. Do it."

"I know you'll never love me." He stands at the foot of her stairs, looking up at her. It is the night of the final battle with Glory. She turns, saying nothing.

"I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man, and that's..." He stops himself. "Get your stuff. I'll be here." She pauses for the briefest of moments before she goes up the stairs.

He stared at her neck, at the pulse beating beneath the skin. He wanted it. A big part of him wanted to taste her that way. Then he shuddered, backing away from her on his hands and knees, a look of abject horror on his face. She sat up and looked at him.

"Why?"

"I couldn’t –" He stopped, choking back a sob.

She crawled over to him, grabbing either side of his face with her hands. "WHY?? What could possibly be worth this?" she shouted.

He looked into her eyes. "Your life," he said simply.

Buffy backed away. "What do you mean?" she said fearfully.

He sighed heavily, defeated. "Men from the Council came to see me last night. Travers and two others. Travers told me about the prophesy. He said that it has two forks: one, you and I fight together on the side of good; two, you and I fight together on the side of evil. They had come to kill me, to ensure that the second fork would never come true, even if that meant the first fork wouldn’t either, sort of by definition. When I defended myself, I realized that the chip wasn’t working anymore."

"You killed them?’

"No."

She pondered that. "And that girl? Outside the Bronze?"

"No."

"Then why? I still don’t understand," Buffy said desperately.

"Travers said that you weren’t putting being the Slayer first anymore. That with the chip out, I would corrupt you. That the second fork of the prophesy was already chosen. I didn’t believe him at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it fit. You aren’t the same as you used to be. You let a monster into your heart, when everything should’ve told you it was the wrong thing to do. I realized we were already on the dark path, you and me. That I would ruin you.

"I decided that I’d rather die than let that happen. So I staged that display outside the Bronze to convince you that I had to die. I had to force you to put being the Slayer first."

She regarded him coldly, but her voice trembled. "The things you said… You made me feel like your whore."

"I had to make you hate me. It had to be real." Tears came to his eyes. "It nearly killed me, saying those things. I love you."

She gasped, a sob escaping her throat. Finally, she allowed herself to feel the wounds his words had caused her. She felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. Buffy collapsed at his knees, sobs wracking her body.

"I tried," Spike said, crying too. "I tried to save you the only way I knew how. I failed. Again."

Gradually she calmed, then raised her head, looking at him. "You did all this to try to save me."

"Yes."

Her expression turned perplexed. "You really don’t see it."

"What?"

"You were willing to sacrifice everything tonight. You were willing to die. All to save me. How can you be on a dark path if that’s true?"

"You don’t understand," he said plaintively. "It was easy to be good with the chip. Without it… I’m not that strong. No vampire ever could be. I’ve said it before, I can’t deny my nature. I’ll be evil again and I’ll take you with me."

She raised an eyebrow. "OK, first of all, let’s get something straight. I’m not gonna turn evil. That’s complete crap."

"But the prophesy –"

"Oh, screw the prophesy! The Council is wrong about me. Travers thinks I’m not putting being the Slayer first. He thinks I can only be one or the other: a fighting machine or a simpering female. He’s wrong. For the first time in my life, I’ve found the balance. For the first time in my life, I’ve figured out how to be the woman and the Slayer. Does it surprise you that the fools on the Council didn’t recognize that for what it was?" She took his hands in hers and looked into his eyes. "Give me some credit, Spike. I’m the Slayer. I accept that, and the duty that goes along with it. As much as I love you, that won’t change."

She had hoped this would calm him, but he became more agitated, standing up and pacing in front of her. "Right. Fine. Bollocks to the forked prophesy. But you said it yourself: if the chip stopped working, you’d have to kill me. It’s your duty. Well, guess what?" he said, holding his arms out helplessly.

She looked down sadly. "I know." After a moment, she met his eyes again. "But I won’t."

He fell to his knees in front of her. "You see? Aren’t you already going back on your duty?"

"Spike, why didn’t you kill that girl?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You said that you didn’t kill that girl outside the Bronze. Why not? You were going to die anyway, or so you thought. You were going to make me kill you. What did it matter if you drained her dry?"

He hesitated, a confused expression on his face. "I don’t know. I just… didn’t want to."

Buffy continued to press him. "But why?"

"I see where you’re going with this, Buffy, but –"

"Just answer the damn question, vampire."

He sighed. "I didn’t want to hurt her."

She stood, pulling him to his feet along with her. She put her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to hear her. "Maybe you’re right. Maybe you can’t deny your nature, Spike. But despite your best intentions to the contrary, all you’ve done tonight is prove to me that you can be good. It’s something I’ve known deep down for a long time."

He started to protest, but she quieted him. "I’m not finished." She sighed. "Before I died, I realized I had lost something. I didn’t care what happened to the world anymore. I had lost the strength to be the Slayer. Now, I’ve found that strength again. I’ve found the balance… and it’s because of you. You are the one that helped me find this peace. The Council may think I’d be better off without you, that I can do this whole Armageddon thing on my own, but I can’t. I need you."

"You’d have the others –"

"I know. I still will. But right now, you are the thing that ties me most strongly to this world. You are the reason that I don’t wake up wondering if today’s the day I’m going to die. I need you. I need you to be strong." Tears filled her eyes again. "Please."

He pulled her into his arms, clinging to her like a life preserver. They stood there for several minutes, just holding each other. Finally, he spoke. "The Council isn’t through with this."

She pulled away, a small smile on her face for the first time all night. "I know. Let me take care of the Council."

He laughed at that. "Wouldn’t wanna trade places with them." Then his face turned serious. "What if you’re wrong about this? About me?"

"As I believe my epitaph reads, I have a lot of experience at this saving the world thing." Buffy leaned in, pressing her forehead against his. "You’re just going to have to trust me," she whispered.

-------------------------

They clung to each other on the dance floor, swaying slowly to the music, oblivious to their surroundings.

...What could I say to you except I love you

and I’d give my life for yours...

The people at the Bronze that night who noticed the leather-clad couple were struck more by the fact that they seemed to clutch each other as if all the demons of Hell were trying to tear them apart than by the fact that they were bruised and bloodied.

...I know we are, we are the lucky ones

I know we are, we are the lucky ones

I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear...

Tomorrow, they would worry and plan. Tomorrow, they would fight. Tonight, they closed their eyes, willing the future that was rushing at them so fast to stop, just for a moment. Tonight, they shut out the destiny and doubt and darkness that threatened to swallow them. Tonight, they stole a brief morsel of time to just be with each other. It would have to be enough.

THE END