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By enigmaticblue

Rating: PG-13

Summery: Spike returns from Africa and he's a little different

Chapter 1: Who Said You Can’t Go Home Again?

“Will there come a time when the memories fade,/And pass on with the long, long years,/When the ties no longer bind?/Lord save me from this darkest fear./Don’t let me come home a stranger,/I couldn’t stand to be a stranger.” ~Fernando Ortega

It was the same every week. One night each week she got this feeling of missing him so badly, this uncontrollable urge, and she’d wind up wandering through his cemetery. Eventually she’d end up at his crypt, staring at the ruin that seemed so accurately to epitomize the end of their relationship. Death. Destruction. Pain. Misery. She shook her head self-deprecatingly. Geez, Buffy. Depressing much? The thing of it was, she missed him. All she’d wanted was for him to leave her alone, and then he took off and she missed him. Not only that, but instead of remembering every painful moment they’d given one another, all she could seem to think about were the good moments, the little points in time where they’d truly enjoyed one another’s company. And it was hard to hate someone you were busy missing like crazy.

She climbed the steps to what had been his home, ran her hand over the half-burned hulk of the door. Clem had managed to save a great deal of Spike’s stuff, and had handed it over to her for safe-keeping when she’d asked. The demons that had done the damage had long since been cleared out. She’d come herself as soon as Clem told her about the problems he’d been having keeping the crypt safe for Spike. It had gotten to the point where he’d been afraid for his safety, and Buffy had told him to let it go. When Spike came back they would figure something out. She didn’t say if Spike came back. She couldn’t.

She entered silently, easily stepping over the remains of the door, and stood in the center of the room. It was completely trashed, and not for the first time did she wonder if she shouldn’t try to clean it up, just in case. Buffy had turned to go when a scrabbling sound caught her attention. It was coming from the corner, and she froze, thinking maybe a vampire had taken up residence since she’d been here last. “Hello?” she called. “I know you’re here. Might as well come out so I can stake you.”

Another whisper of sound caught her ears, and Buffy moved cautiously toward it. She could just barely make out the outline of a very grimy hand silhouetted against the soot covered floor. It withdrew from the little light the moon afforded through the half-destroyed door, squeezing itself even further into the corner, but Buffy had seen enough. Her hand shot out and grabbed the shadow, tossing it against the blackened bier, stake raised and ready for use.

Poised, her hand froze as what she was seeing registered. “Spike?” she whispered. The hand holding him down registered heat, and moving as though in slow motion, she moved it over to rest on his chest. And felt the beating of his heart.

The stake clattered to the floor, and she reached out to help him sit up. He was filthy. It looked as though every square inch of him were covered in dirt and grime. His hair was long and matted; it was impossible to tell the color, but it looked as though it had not been taken care of in a very long time. But most shocking of all was his general condition. Even in the dim light the moon afforded, his emaciated state was obvious, and the color of his cheeks spoke of fever, not good health. The only thing that had remained the same were his eyes, still the same deep blue, staring at her through tangles of hair.

“You’re sick,” she said, unnecessarily. When he made no reply, she draped one lax arm over her shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.” She didn’t allow herself to think, just to react. Spike was in front of her, he was sick, he needed her help. There was nothing to do except take him home with her.

Buffy hadn’t expected anyone at the house after patrol. Willow had returned, but had made the decision to live on campus, and was busy taking summer courses. There were too many memories for her in the Summers’ house, and it was easier for her this way. Her sister would be at her friend Janice’s house spending the night; a regular Friday ritual. So, the sight of Xander swinging open the front door both surprised and displeased her. The last thing she needed at this point was one of Xander’s lectures on the evilness of the undead. Or ex-undead.

“Buffy?” he called. “Is something wrong? What happened?” She managed to get Spike inside the house before the other man recognized him. With instincts honed by seven years of demon fighting, he pulled Spike from the Slayer’s grip and slammed him up against the wall. “You bastard. I can’t believe you came back.”

Buffy immediately recognized the look on her friend’s face, and knew that nothing she said would get through to him. Spike certainly wasn’t doing anything to defend himself. He was simply looking at Xander with a dazed _expression on his face, like he couldn’t actually process what was going on, which wouldn’t have surprised Buffy in the least. On the way home she’d realized that his fever was incredibly high; he was probably bordering on delirious at this point. Firmly, she grasped Xander’s wrist, and moved his hand from Spike’s shoulder to his chest, right over his beating heart.

Xander jerked back as though he’d been burned, and then reached out to catch Spike who had collapsed without anything holding him up. “Buffy?” he asked, his _expression bewildered.

“Help me get him upstairs,” was all she said, telling him with her eyes that they could discuss this later. He frowned slightly, but didn’t argue. Now that he’d realized both Spike’s present alive status, as well as his poor condition, he wasn’t in the mood to kill him. They’d managed to maneuver him up the stairs, which wasn’t that difficult, considering that he was about thirty pounds underweight, and had just reached the bathroom door when Spike began to struggle.

Buffy glanced over at him and recognized that he knew where he was and he didn’t much like it, even in his fevered state. Gritting her teeth, Buffy let Xander take his weight and came to stand in front of him. She took his chin in her hand and forced him to look her in the face. “I spent the last year going in and out of that bathroom,” she said quietly. “You can deal with it too.” He made no answer, but he quit struggling, and she let Xander get him into the bathroom and sit him gently down on the toilet seat.

Leaving him there, Xander pulled her just outside the door. “Buffy, I really think he needs to go to a hospital. His temperature is way too high.”

She sighed. “I know he’s sick, Xander, but he doesn’t have any identification or insurance. I don’t know how we’d get him treated.”

“I think we may have to try. A fever like that can do some lasting damage, and he’s in no shape to fight it off.” Xander’s face was twisted with concern, and Buffy realized that this was one of the things she liked about him so much. He had never really liked to see anyone suffer, even those he hated. Dead was okay maybe, but Xander had never been big on the whole torture thing when you got right down to it.

She nodded. “I know,” she repeated. “I’m going to get him cleaned up, hopefully bring the fever down that way. If he’s not better tomorrow, we can take him to the hospital. I still know some of the doctors that took care of Mom when she was sick. I might be able to convince one of them to look Spike over even without the whole insurance thing.”

Xander pursed his lips, then acquiesced, agreeing that she was probably right. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

Buffy hesitated, then reached out and squeezed his arm. “I’ll be all right. I can take care of everything from here. But if you wouldn’t mind stopping by tomorrow morning…”

He smiled and gave her a one-armed hug. “I’ll be by bright and early.” Sobering, he looked at her with dark, serious eyes. “You do understand that if he wasn’t halfway to dead there’d be no way I’d leave you alone with him, don’t you?”

She patted his arm. “I can take care of myself, Xander,” Buffy said with a smile. Xander headed down the stairs, and Buffy went back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Spike seemed to be rousing a little from whatever state he’d been in when she found him. She started the bath water, thinking it would be easier to get him clean that way, though he was so dirty she’d probably have to run two baths. Once the water was running, she turned to him and started to unbutton the shirt he was wearing. She’d gotten it about half undone when his hands came down on hers.

“Buffy, no.” His voice was hoarse, gravelly from disuse, and weak.

“Spike,” she said, her tone gentle, with just an edge of exasperation. “I’ve seen everything you’ve got before. And you need to get cleaned up. Right now, I don’t think you can even stand on your own, let alone get your own bath.”

He removed his hand, shoulders slumped in resignation, and Buffy realized that this was broken-Spike she was looking at. Besides the whole human thing, he wasn’t the same. Something in his eyes had died. With a gentleness that had never been her trademark, she finished unbuttoning the shirt, and then helped him pull off the t-shirt he’d had on underneath. He leaned back against the toilet, bare-chested, as she knelt to remove his old boots. A sound emerged from his chest, somewhere in between a sob and a laugh. “Why are you doing this, Slayer?” he asked. Buffy finished taking off his boots and socks before looking up at him.

“Because you need this,” she said. She reached out to touch one hot cheek briefly and then reached over to turn the water off. Buffy pulled him to his feet and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Hang on,” she ordered, and Spike stood obediently, hanging on as she undid his ruined jeans and let them drop to the floor.

There was a flush to his cheeks that had nothing to do with the fever, and Buffy fixed her eyes on his own so as not to give him more embarrassment than necessary. Hanging onto him tightly, she helped him climb into the tub. Once he was seated, she handed him a washcloth and a bar of soap. “Do what you can,” she said quietly. “I’m going to see if I can’t find something for you to wear, and I’ll be back to help you finish up.” She picked up what was left of his garments from the floor, and walked out, leaning against the closed door once she was outside.

From the moment she’d found him and realized who he was, she’d been intent on helping him. He was so frail she wanted to weep. It was all she could do not to cry out at the scars all over his torso and arms, the sight of his bones looking as though they would poke through milk-white, semi-transparent skin at any moment. She straightened. She would figure out how she felt about this later. She was Buffy, Queen of Denial, after all. She would find those clothes of his she’d packed away, and she’d get him cleaned up and tucked into bed, and somehow she’d get him better. When that was all done, she would have time to figure out what it meant now that he was back, in her house, and human.

Spike had managed to get most of himself clean, and get his hair wet when Buffy reappeared with a thick towel and some clothes in hand. “Let me get your back and then we’ll get your hair washed,” she said. She wasn’t sure this was the best thing for him, but she’d heard somewhere that a lukewarm bath was the best thing for a fever, and there was no way it could be good for him to be that dirty. He was silent as she gently rubbed the washcloth over his back, and then started the water running again so she could wash his hair.

She noticed that his eyes were closed as she rubbed the shampoo into his scalp, wincing as she involuntarily tugged too hard. “Sorry,” she murmured. She eased him back under the flowing water and made a face as she realized that his tangled locks were going to need a lot more than just a shampooing. “I think I’m going to have to give you a haircut,” she said quietly. “There’s some pretty bad tangles in here. I don’t think they’re going to come out.”

“Better shave the lot, pet,” he said hoarsely. His eyes opened to meet her surprised look. “Places I’ve been, wouldn’t be surprised if something’s made its home in there at this point.”

Buffy made a face. “Eww. Could you be more gross?” At the look on his face, her _expression immediately softened. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out, Spike.”

“Know you didn’t. ‘Preciate the Florence Nightingale act.”

“It’s not an act,” she replied. “I think I might be channeling her. Come on. Let’s get you dried off and dressed. I don’t think the haircut’s going to take long, and I need to take your temperature.” Buffy let him do most of the drying, and then handed him a pair of old sweatpants and a t-shirt, letting him get dressed while she stood with her back turned. She sat him back down on the toilet seat, popped the thermometer in his mouth, and took out the scissors. She’d never claimed to be a beautician, and she knew how her last attempt at cutting hair had turned out, but by clipping the sides and back as closely as possible and leaving the top a little longer, it didn’t turn out too badly.

She brushed him off and pulled the thermometer out of his mouth. It felt as though his fever had gone down a little, but it was still over 102. Not of the good. “All right. You need to go to bed.”

“Isn’t this Red’s room?” he asked quietly as she led him through the door.

“No, she’s living on campus now,” Buffy replied. “This is actually my room.”

He pulled back slightly. “I can’t take your bed,” he protested. Buffy grabbed his arm before he could fall over.

“Oh yeah, and you’re in really good shape to be arguing. My old bed’s still in the other room, Spike. It’s not like I don’t have anywhere to sleep.” She pulled the covers down and got him into bed, pulling the sheets and blanket up around his chin. He shivered slightly, and Buffy frowned. “Are you cold?”

“Just a chill. Been havin’ ‘em for weeks now.”

Buffy didn’t respond, just left the room and came back with a few blankets. Spike didn’t protest when she started to spread them over him. In fact, he was beginning to strongly suspect that this was all a dream, and when he woke up from it he’d still be in his destroyed crypt, waiting to die. He was certain it was a dream when she reached out and touched his forehead with one cool hand. “Go to sleep, Spike. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

Spike kept both eyes tightly shut as he drifted up into consciousness. He’d had hundreds of dreams in the time since he’d become human again, but the one he’d had last night was by far and away the best. He was well aware that as soon as he opened his eyes, the dream would fade, and he really didn’t want it to. But if there was anything he’d learned in the last year or so since he’d been gone, it was that sooner or later he would have to face the reality of his life.

He opened his eyes to find himself in Buffy’s bed, tucked under about four layers of blankets, and blessedly clean after months of feeling filthy. Shutting his eyes and opening them again, he waited to see if it would all go away, but it didn’t. “I see you’ve decided to join the land of the living,” Xander said from his position next to the bed. “In every way possible.”

Spike turned his head to look at the other man, who was sitting in a chair, feet propped up on the bed, and reading the newspaper. “Harris. Now I know I’m not dreaming. I guess you decided not to kill me after all.” He pushed himself up on his elbows, almost frightened at how weak he was. Managing to get himself propped up against the headboard, he looked over at Xander, who was holding out a glass of water.

“Well, you know, I haven’t actually killed a human yet, and wasn’t really planning on starting last night. Here, drink. You’re pretty dehydrated.” Xander handed the glass to Spike, keeping his hand on it to hold it steady.

“Where’s Buffy?”

“Catching up on some much needed sleep,” Xander replied, replacing the now-empty glass on the nightstand. “You want to tell me where you went?”

“Not particularly, no.” Spike was still feeling feverish, which didn’t make for him having a very good attitude. But at Xander’s patient gaze, he sighed. Why he should unburden his soul to the Whelp, he had no idea, but he was there, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to do all that much talking to Buffy. “I went to Africa. Saw a demon, and got myself turned back into a human. Satisfied?” He couldn’t keep the snarkiness out of his tone.

“And you came back, why?” Xander asked, some measure of snideness in his own voice.

“Where else was I supposed to go, Harris?” Spike asked, genuinely puzzled. “This is home. Besides, by the time that demon got done with me, I was operating mostly on instinct. I’ve been in and out of things since then. Got back here and just collapsed. Don’t really know a whole lot beyond that.”

Xander hesitated, feeling a very unwelcome sympathy with the other man. He didn’t want to feel sorry for Spike, but seeing him lying there, too thin, cheeks flushed with fever, he couldn’t help it. “Well, I can’t say anybody actually missed you, but you could have ended up in a worse place.”

“I’ve already been in worse places,” Spike replied.

Xander might have made another comment, but Buffy walked into the room. “Hey,” she said, looking from one to the other. She was a little surprised to see Spike sitting up, and she wasn’t exactly sure what to say to a coherent Spike. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like death would be an improvement,” he replied. Buffy smiled a little at his response, and Xander, sensing their need to be alone, stood up to leave.

“You know, I’m going to see what I can do with the basement while I’m here, Buf. If you need me, just let me know.” He looked from Spike to Buffy, dark eyes somber.

“Sure,” Buffy made another attempt at a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We’ll be fine.” She watched as Xander left and then turned back to her patient. “We should probably check your temperature again.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Spike said quietly. “If you don’t want me here, say the word, and I’m gone.”

“And where are you going to go?” Buffy demanded angrily. “Back to your crypt? One more night there, and you probably would have been dead.”

“That’s a problem? Why should it matter if I’m dead or alive?”

“Oh, right. So I can come by and find your body on another night and figure out you became human post mortem. That’s really fair to me, Spike.”

He stared at her, blue eyes incredulous. “That’s a regular stop for you, Slayer? I would have thought that was the last place you’d want to be.”

“I could feel you there. I missed you.”

Now that it was out, the words hung between them, heavy with emotion. “No. No, you didn’t. You couldn’t. After—”

“After what you did?” Buffy stared at him, tears forming in her eyes. “What you did was horrible. But I’ve had a year to think about it, about what happened between the two of us. It was bad, but that doesn’t mean that I ever wanted you dead.”

Spike looked away, unwilling to meet her eyes. “I wish I could say I was sorry, but that’s not good enough. Just—why are you doing this?”

Buffy stared at the floor, silent. She had never been one to share deep feelings, and this was definitely bordering on the deep. “Let’s just say it’s to make up for all the times I didn’t and I should have.” She crossed the room to sit down on the bed beside him, reaching out to touch wiry curls. “Doesn’t look too bad, if I do say so myself.”

“Wouldn’t know. I’m still not too big on the mirrors.” There was pain in his eyes that tore at Buffy’s heart.

“Here,” she said, breaking the mood intentionally. “You should probably take some Advil or Tylenol or something for that fever, and I need to take your temp.”

He nodded, rubbing his eyes. “I could use something. This headache’s getting worse.”

Buffy frowned, her concern for him growing. “I’ll be right back.” She went to the bathroom, getting the bottle out of the medicine cabinet and refilling the glass with water. “How long have you had the headache?” she asked, handing him both the pills and the glass.

His hands shook as he took both from her, but he managed to hold the glass steady enough to down the pills. “Last four months or so, I guess,” he admitted.

“And how long have you been sick?” Her hand rested gently against the side of his face, and he closed his eyes, relaxing into the sensation that someone cared whether or not he lived or died.

“About four months. Was in L.A. for a while. Thought about looking Angel up, but wasn’t feeling up to it.” He looked at her, then looked away, still unwilling to meet her eyes.

Buffy took the thermometer and stuck it in his mouth without further questioning. She wanted to know everything, and nothing. Of all the men in her life who had left, he was the only one who’d come back. And she had a niggling suspicion that if she asked, he would tell her why he’d become human, why he had a soul, and that it would have been for her. It made her responsible for him in a very real way, and that frightened her more than anything else.

The fever was still edging up past 102, and she frowned. If it didn’t come down soon, she’d have to take Xander up on his suggestion of the night before and take Spike to the hospital. “Do you think you could eat something?” she asked. “I know you probably need your sleep, but you look like you haven’t had a decent meal in months.”

“Make that a year, Slayer, and you’ll be closer to the truth.” He hesitated, and then nodded. “Can’t make any promises about keepin’ it down, but I’ll give it a shot.”

When she’d fed him most of a plateful of eggs and toast, he just drifted off to sleep. Buffy reached out to touch his forehead once again. It seemed she couldn’t get enough of him. She had missed him badly, and now she wasn’t sure she quite believed that he lay before her. After a time of watching his chest rise and fall, a movement that fascinated her, she went back downstairs to see Xander in the kitchen fixing himself a sandwhich. “You don’t mind do you, Buf?” he asked.

“What? Mind if you eat my food? When have I ever minded in the past?” She smiled to let him know she was teasing. “So, how goes the basement making?”

He smiled at her. He’d matured in the last year, and in recent months had managed to lose quite a bit of weight and regain the swim-team physique he’d had in high school. Only more muscular. Buffy had to admit he looked good. When she’d asked him about it, he had kind of ducked his head, and replied, “I figured it was time to take my head out of my ass and move on, Buf. Anya and I aren’t going to get back together, and if I ever want another woman to look at me, it would probably help if I didn’t look like the Pillsbury Doughboy.”

She hadn’t argued with him, though he’d never truly looked that bad. He had started dating again, though slowly, and he still spent most of his weekends over at her house working on the basement. He’d suggested that he finish it for her. Said it would bring up the retail value of the house and it would give her a little more room. He had even told her that he could make a very cozy training room. Buffy had let him go ahead, partly because it had obviously helped him take his mind off of other things (a.k.a. Anya) and partly because she could see the value of his suggestion.

“Up to the mudding phase of the drywall,” he replied. “Which is why I look like I’ve been in a blizzard. How’s Spike?”

Buffy shrugged a little, and cleaned the plate off into the sink. “His temperature is still high, and he’s got a headache. He managed to eat something, though, and it looks as though he’s going to be able to keep it down.” She put the dishes from the sink into the dishwasher, then turned to face him. “I think you might have been right about the hospital. I think he’s been sick for a pretty long time. It’s going to take a little more than a comfy bed and regular meals to get him on his feet again.”

“Is that what you’re really trying to do?” he asked her. “Get him on his feet again so you can get him out the door?”

Buffy met his eyes. “I don’t want to hear anything about what happened between Spike and I,” she said, her tone brooking no opposition. “What’s done is done. It’s in the past. I don’t even think that’s the same person upstairs.”

Xander frowned. He hated admitting it, but human Spike wasn’t the same. It wasn’t that he was particularly prejudiced (though deep down he knew he was), but humans were easier to deal with, easier to trust. Even if he didn’t like them, he at least knew what to expect from them. Or he thought he did. A human Spike presented a new problem for his moral structure. Humans could be forgiven; evil creatures should not be because they might turn on you. Spike was a demon, therefore he shouldn’t be forgiven for what he’d tried to do. But Spike was a human, which meant he might be okay. The whole thing made his head hurt. “Fine, Buffy. I’m just saying, we don’t really know how much he’s changed.”

“No, we don’t,” she agreed softly. “But we didn’t know how much Willow had changed when she came back, and we took her back just the same. If I want to do the same for Spike, that’s my decision.”

He nodded, reluctantly. Xander truly was trying to do a better job about not being a control freak when it came to Buffy’s love life, but it was difficult, and Spike had been a part of her life he’d both not liked and not understood.

Buffy heard the front door open and close with a bang. “Buffy?”

“We’re in the kitchen, Dawn,” she called, wondering how her sister was going to take the news. She hoped that this could be gotten through with a minimum of drama. She was still tired, and really not in the mood.

“Hey, Buffy, Xander.” Dawn looked from one to the other and paused. “Is everything okay?”

Buffy took a seat at the kitchen table and motioned for Dawn to do the same. “Why don’t you sit down.”

Dawn hesitated, looking slightly scared. “Is the world ending again?” she asked. “Because I really don’t think I’m ready for another apocalypse.”

“It’s not an apocalypse, Dawnie. It’s—” Buffy stopped, deciding the blunt approach would probably be best in this case. “Spike’s back.”

Dawn’s eyes widened. “He’s what? He actually came back?”

“To be precise,” Xander said, a bit of snark in his tone, “he’s upstairs in your sister’s bed.”

Buffy gave him a tired look. “Xander, that’s enough. Dawn, Spike’s back. He’s also human, he has a soul, and he’s sick. If you don’t want to see him, that’s fine, and if you do, that’s fine too. Just—don’t give him too hard of a time right now. He’s in really bad shape.”

Her sister frowned, concern warring with anger. “Is he going to be okay?”

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know. If his fever doesn’t start coming down, we’ll probably have to take him to the hospital, though.”

“Oh.” Dawn looked down at the floor. “Are you okay?”

Buffy smiled. Dawn was often a lot more perceptive than they expected. She would know at least a little of what this meant for Buffy. “I will be. I’m just tired this morning.”

“Can I see him?”

Buffy nodded. “Just don’t wake him up. He needs the rest.”

Dawn gave her sister a hug, and looked over at Xander, who had an uncomfortable _expression on his face. They had gotten a lot closer over the last few months, and Dawn didn’t want to cause him any pain. And yet, Spike was important to her too. Buffy had impressed upon her that what had happened between the two of them wasn’t good, but that the fault had been on both sides. Buffy had made also told her that she was completely free to feel whatever toward Spike. “Whatever Xander says,” Buffy had said quietly during one of their long talks, “Spike wasn’t totally bad, and he would never hurt you. He did a lot of good things, and I know he’d die before he let anything happen to you. I know you’re probably angry that he left the way he did, and because of what he did to me, but if you miss him, even if you still love him, that’s fine, Dawnie. What you and he had was special.”

Dawn was a bit apprehensive. It had been over a year since she’d seen him, and a lot of her anger had faded in that time. She still remembered all the times he’d stayed with her during the summer that Buffy had been gone, the times that he had stuck by her side when Glory was trying to kill her. That year, that summer, had been a big part of their relationship, and most of the time it outweighed whatever had come later.

She opened the door slowly. He was too thin, she realized immediately, almost skeletal. Besides the weight loss, his platinum blonde hair, his trademark, was shorter and a light brown. His cheeks were flushed, and she took another step toward the bed, unsure of what to do now that she’d seen him. “Hey, Bit.”

Dawn jumped. She hadn’t realized he was awake, and wondered how he’d known it was her with his eyes closed. “Spike.”

His eyes fluttered open. “Come to see for yourself if the rumors were true, hey Niblet?”

“You left.” She said this with as much anger as she could muster.

“I know. I’m sorry.” There were lines in his face that hadn’t been there before, and they deepened as he watched her. “Know you probably won’t forgive me,” he said softly.

Perversely, Dawn felt some of her anger drain away. “Did Buffy tell you? After you left, Warren killed Tara, and Willow went crazy and tried to end the world, and she had to go to England with Giles, and you weren’t here.”

“I know I wasn’t, Bit.”

“You didn’t even say anything. You just left without a good-bye.” She was right next to the bed, staring down at him, tears forming in her eyes. “I missed you.” This last came out as more of an accusation than anything else.

“I missed you too, Dawn.” He might have gone on, but she was in his arms in a second, head buried in his chest. Spike just held her and stroked her hair. His love for her burned brightly. Unlike his feelings for Buffy, there was nothing complicated about this. It was simply love in its purest form. After a few moments, he pushed her gently away. “Careful, luv. Don’t want you to catch whatever it is I’ve got.”

She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “It’s okay. I don’t get sick very often. You know you look like hell.”

He chuckled weakly. “I’m not surprised.” Spike’s eyes were gentle as he reached up to brush her hair away from her face. “Seems like everything went to hell in a handbasket as soon as I left. You want to talk about it?”

It had always been simple with Spike. She was who she was, and he listened without comment, without judgment. She filled him in on what had happened right after he’d left, told him that Willow was back in town and living on campus, that Xander was starting to date again and come out of the funk he’d been in for so long, that something seemed to be going on between Anya and Giles, that Buffy was working retail at the mall and liked it a lot better than the Doublemeat. Plus, she got clothes at a discount, which was a huge help. Buffy was also taking a few classes at UC Sunnydale. She’d made the honor roll at school last year, which pleased both Buffy and Social Services to no end. And their dad was finally starting to pay some child support, which meant things were a little more comfortable around the house.

She had paused in her recitation when he reached out to touch her hand. “Gotta stop you there, Bit,” he said, eyes slightly glazed. “Can’t keep my eyes open. Good to see my girl again, though.”

Dawn watched as he dropped off, and turned to find Buffy standing in the doorway. “How is he?” her sister asked.

“I think he’s okay. He doesn’t look so great.” Dawn looked at him, biting her lip.

“I know, sweetie. But you know Spike. You just can’t keep him down.” Buffy smiled at her younger sister. “Why don’t you go take a shower if you want. I’m just going to sit with him for a while.”

It was mid-afternoon when he started to thrash around, in the grip of some nightmare. Buffy woke, startled from the nap she’d been taking in the chair beside the bed. “Spike,” she called, touching his shoulder. Even through his t-shirt, she could feel the heat radiating off his body, and she knew that his fever had risen considerably. He didn’t come out of it, and she shook him a little harder. “Spike, come on. You need to wake up.”

He wasn’t coming to, and Buffy was beginning to get scared. “Spike. It’s me—Buffy. It’s just a nightmare.” His eyes finally opened, but they were glazed over and unfocused. “Spike.”

“Buffy? Is it really you?” There was fear in his voice, in his eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

“I was,” she said, somewhat drily. “My friends brought me back. I think you were around for that episode.”

He didn’t smile. “I thought you’d died again. I couldn’t stop it.”

“Hey, I’m here, right? And I’m doing a hell of a lot better than you are at the moment.” She placed a hand against his forehead. “Dawn?” she called. When her sister stuck her head into the room, she spoke quickly. “Tell Xander I’m going to need him to drive us to the hospital. I think he’s getting worse.”

“Miss Summers?” Dr. Emrys called as he came out of the examining room. Buffy had been lucky enough to find him standing right by the admissions desk when they’d walked in, luckier still that he’d remembered her and her sister and was ready to help. He’d been one of the many doctors that had looked after her mom while she was sick, and was one of the nicest. An older man, perhaps in his sixties, he’d immediately agreed to see Spike, even without insurance, telling her that he had a limited private practice and that he could probably see her friend under that capacity. The doctor had been extremely efficient, getting Spike into a room and hooking him up to an IV in a matter of minutes.

Now, he stood before her with a slightly worried _expression on his face that made Buffy’s stomach clench. “Is he going to be alright?” she asked.

He smiled reassuringly. “Your friend is a very sick young man, but I have every reason to think he’ll recover. I take it you haven’t seen him in a while.”

Buffy shook her head. “He, um, left about a year ago. We hadn’t seen him until last night.”

Emrys nodded. “I see. Do you happen to know if he was out of the country for any portion of that time?”

Buffy shook her head, but Xander broke in with, “He said he’d been in Africa.”

The older man nodded, seemingly satisfied with the information. “Well, that would certainly explain it. I’m afraid he’s contracted a rather nasty case of malaria. While there are several different types, I think it’s safe to assume the kind he has isn’t fatal.”

“How do you know?” Dawn asked. Buffy winced at the fear in her sister’s voice. Neither one of them cared for doctors or hospitals much, each associating it with their mother’s death. It was no wonder that Dawn didn’t trust the doctor’s word.

He hesitated, then admitted, “If he had the type that is potentially fatal, he would probably be dead by now. I’d like to do a blood test that should take a couple hours. At that point, we’ll know a little more. For the time being, I’d like to keep him on the IV, and I’ve given him some fairly potent medication to reduce his fever. Once the tests are done, we’ll know what other treatments to administer, and if there’s any chance of a relapse in the future. After that, I can probably release him into your care.”

“Thanks, Dr. Emrys. I really appreciate this.” Buffy watched as he gave her another sympathetic smile, and left. She turned to her sister and Xander. “It’s almost dinner time. Why don’t you guys get something to eat?”

“What about you, Buf?” Xander asked. “You can’t tell me you’re not hungry.”

She shook her head. “If you could bring me back a sandwich or something, that would be great, but I’d like to stay here.”

Xander looked like he was about to argue, but Dawn poked him in the ribs with her elbow. “I’ll make sure we get something decent. Do you want us to call Willow?”

Buffy rubbed her hand over tired eyes. “Oh, crap. I completely forgot we were supposed to hang out tonight. Yeah, call her for me. Tell her if she wants, I can meet her at the house once we get done here.”

She watched them leave, and knew that Xander was not at all thrilled about her concern for Spike. It was all fine and dandy to help him out, since he was now both helpless and human, but the hatred that ran between the two of them went deep. She had a feeling that even human-Spike wouldn’t quite live up to his expectations of what would be a suitable guy for her. Which wasn’t even an issue, since they weren’t together. She was helping him because that’s what she did. She helped people. Emphasis on the people. Sighing, Buffy went into Spike’s room.

He lay, still and quiet on the hospital bed, a thin tube dripping clear liquid into his arm. For the dehydration, the doctor had informed her. “Hey,” she said, as his eyes opened.

“You look tired,” he observed, clear-eyed and lucid.

“Good to know you aren’t totally out of it,” she said, ignoring his comment. “And yeah, I’m tired. Haven’t gotten a lot of sleep the last few nights.”

Spike winced. “Sorry. My fault, I guess.”

She shook her head, coming over to sit next to him on the bed. “Not really. I wasn’t sleeping all that well before you came back.” She looked down at the white sheet that lay between them, and worried it with her fingers. “Have I told you yet that I’m glad you’re back?”

“Think you said something about missing me,” he replied.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Buffy said, smiling. “But you make things more interesting.”

He lifted one scarred eyebrow, and suddenly he was Spike again, and not some stranger in Spike’s body. “Hardly think interestin’ was the word for that last year, Slayer. Didn’t make things easier on you, did I? Should have. Sorry ‘bout that.”

She shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably. “I didn’t make things easier on you, either, so you could call us even.”

“Is that what we are? Even?” He finally met her eyes, searching for a truth he was afraid to misread.

Buffy struggled to find the words. “I forgave you a while ago, Spike. Forgive me?”

“’Course.”

“Okay,” she replied, feeling a weight lift off of her chest. She’d treated him badly, and the remembrance of that had sat heavily on her heart. She hadn’t thought she was that kind of person, but had proven herself wrong. She supposed, in a way, she and Spike had been in the same boat. She’d realized she needed to make some serious changes when she found out what she was capable of. Apparently, Spike had felt the same way. It was something she would have liked to tell him, but she couldn’t find the words. “You want to tell me what happened? After you left, I mean?”

He hesitated. “I realized I wasn’t good enough for you. Wasn’t good enough for what I wanted for myself. I was stuck between two worlds, so I decided to pick one once and for all. Heard about this demon in Africa, more of a legend really, but I went looking for him. Found him, passed his tests, and made my wish. I was in pretty bad shape after, and it didn’t help that I didn’t have any money or identification. Took about eight months to get back to the States, and that’s when I started to feel sick. Must have been the malaria. Barely made it back here, really. Didn’t much care whether I lived or died when you found me.”

She wanted to touch him again, to assure herself that it was real, but she restrained herself. It was too soon to even be thinking things like that. There was so much that lay between them, it would take months to sort out, maybe years. Maybe never. “Well, I’m glad I found you when I did.”

“Do you go there that often?” he asked softly.

“About once a week. At least, over the last few months. I wanted to be sure it was safe after Clem told me some demons had taken it over. It was pretty much trashed after that though.” Buffy frowned, wishing that she had somehow safeguarded it better, so that he would have had something to come back to.

“It’s all right. There wasn’t much left there anyway. Not after the lower level got blown up.” Spike shrugged philosophically. He was feeling better, more awake, though he was fairly lightheaded.

“I’m sorry about that, Spike.”

He laughed, somewhat sourly. “Don’t worry about it. Not such a big deal.”

Silence fell. And it was a not-so-comfortable silence. Buffy remembered when they could sit on her porch, saying nothing for hours. Now the silence had a lot more to do with not knowing what to say. After a while, he dropped off to sleep, and Buffy went out to the waiting room again.

“Hey, Buf,” Xander called as they came to greet her. “We bring food, and—” he stepped to one side to reveal Willow.

“Willow! Hey, I’m sorry about the whole hanging thing.”

The witch gave her friend a hug. “Don’t worry about it. I think the return of Spike qualifies as a major distraction.” She looked at Buffy, hard. “Are you okay?”

“With Spike being back? About as okay as I can be, I think.” Buffy gave a reasonable approximation of a smile. “At least I won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Willow smiled encouragingly. “Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

It wasn’t long after they’d finished eating that Dr. Emrys came out to talk to Buffy. “William should be fine,” he said, reassuring her when she asked after the results of the blood test. “However, the type of malaria he contracted can relapse, so if he should come down with flu-like symptoms in the future, you’ll need to get him to the hospital or to your doctor as soon as possible.” He handed her a container of pills. “The directions are on the bottle. Make sure he takes all of them according to the instructions. He’ll still be a little dehydrated, so make sure he drinks plenty of fluids and rests, but he should be feeling better in a few days.”

“Thanks, doctor.”

He stopped her as she started to turn away and handed her his card. “Some forms of malaria are more resistant to antibiotics. If he’s not better in a few days, give me a call on my cell phone. I still make house calls if necessary.”

She stared at him, speechless. “Dr. Emrys, thanks, but—I’m not sure how we’re going to pay for a hospital visit, let alone a house call.”

The doctor smiled at her, and patted her kindly on the shoulder. “I have a son about his age, and I’d hate to think that he wouldn’t get medical attention just because he couldn’t afford the bill. I’ll take care of things on this end, and if you need my help again, we’ll work something out. He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

Buffy continued to stare after his retreating figure, then looked at the bottle of pills and the card in her hand. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Some friend.”

Chapter 2: It’s Nice to Belong to Someone

“Home is where there’s someone to love you.” ~Charles Swain

Buffy looked up from the salad she was making to see Spike wander into the kitchen. “You look like you’re feeling better,” she said, greeting him with a smile.

“S’pose I am. Was gettin’ a bit sick of that bed.” He sat down at the table carefully, and Buffy could see that he was still weak. Just the walk down the stairs had tired him out, but the doctor had told her to expect that. He’d said it could be a couple of weeks or more before he regained even some of his strength, and it would be longer than that before they could reverse the effects of the malnutrition.

He’d been sleeping pretty much constantly over the last two days, waking only long enough to eat and drink, but he’d needed it. And the fever had finally broken yesterday, so he wasn’t as flushed as he had been. “It’s probably not the best thing for you, but do you want a cup of coffee?” she asked.

“Sure. Sounds good.” He took the mug she set in front of him gratefully, and then looked over at her, puzzled, as she sat down in front of him.

“I think we need to talk,” she said seriously.

His face grew very still, and he nodded warily. “What about?”

“We need to talk about your options. Xander and I were talking, and he has a spare bedroom in his apartment, so you could move in with him if you want. Or, you could stay here. It’s up to you.” She waited for his answer, not sure what he would say.

He looked down at the table, tracing the grain with his finger. “I can leave whenever you want me to, Slayer.”

Her eyes widened as she realized what he meant. “Spike, I don’t want you to leave. I’m just talking about options here.”

“So you just asked Xander if he would mind if the guy he hates moves in with him because you wanted to give me an option?” His tone was bitter, and Buffy wasn’t sure she blamed him. She’d been all too ready to get rid of him as fast as she could in the past.

“Spike,” she began, reaching across the table to touch his hand. He pulled it out of her reach, and she bit her lip. “I told you. I don’t want you to leave, but I do want you to do what’s best for you. I wasn’t sure if staying here was the best thing, if you even wanted to be around me.”

He looked up at her, gazing into her eyes for a long time. “What do you want, Slayer?”

“This isn’t about what I want, Spike,” she said quietly.

“Humor me.”

“Fine,” she replied, her tone holding a tinge of anger. “What I want is to go back to before. We were friends, at least for a while, after I came back. And before that, we could talk. That’s what I want.”

“D’you seriously think we could be friends?” he asked, his tone incredulous and hopeful at the same time.

“Weren’t we, once?”

Spike hesitated, and then said quietly, “I still love you, Buffy. Whatever happened between the two of us, whatever you did to me, or me to you, I still love you. Always will, y’know.”

“I know.” Buffy looked off into the distance. “I’m not saying that I love you, Spike, or even that I will, but I feel something for you. Frankly, I think you and Xander would probably end up killing each other if you took that option. And I really don’t want you dead.”

He chuckled, the closest thing she’d heard to a laugh from him since his return. “Well, it’s not everyone gets a second chance, so if it makes you feel any better, I don’t really want to be dead m’self.” He looked thoughtful. “Should probably let you have your room back, though. Been in there long enough.”

“No, no, and a whole world of no,” Buffy said, rising and returning to her salad. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to redo my old room anyway. This is the perfect opportunity.”

“I don’t want to take your bedroom, Slayer. I don’t need the big one. Can sleep in the other room, or even on the couch just as easily.” He actually looked a bit distressed that he was putting her out, and she shook her head.

“Hello? Master bedroom comes with master bathroom. I can’t imagine the damage it would do to Dawn if she accidentally walked in on you in the shower some day. Chances of that happening are much reduced if you stay put.” She smiled at him. “Really, I don’t mind at all.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “If you think it’s best, then.”

“I really do,” she said firmly. “By the way, Xander and Willow are coming over for dinner later. They pitched in and got me a grill for Christmas. You wouldn’t believe the difference it makes in my menu. For some reason, I can grill a lot better than I cook. Anyway, we’re having burgers.”

She looked back at him and saw he was busy fiddling with his coffee cup. “I want you to eat with us, Spike.”

He looked up and then away. “If you want me to.”

She tried to make her voice as firm as possible. “If you’re going to live here, you’re going to be considered part of the family.”

He looked up and met her eyes, something akin to happiness kindling in their depths. “I’d probably better get cleaned up, then.”

“You might want to take a nap, too,” she called after his retreating back. She stared at the tomato she’d placed on the cutting board thoughtfully. ‘Is this really going to work?’ she wondered. Trying to put him back together at the same time she was trying to figure her own feelings out was foolish. She shook off her doubts. What mattered at this point was Spike. Once he was back on his feet, and a little more steady, she could determine whether her feelings for him stemmed from the same maternal instict that came out around Dawn and her friends, or if they went deeper than that.

Spike hadn’t planned on taking a nap. He’d showered, and gone out to look over the clothes Buffy had managed to salvage from the crypt. She’d apparently gotten him a few new t-shirts over the past couple days as well, which varied his choices slightly. While he debated, he happened to glance at the bed he’d just made, and realized how tired he was, just from the walk downstairs and that conversation with Buffy. ‘Just for a moment,’ he thought, stretching out on the bed.

The next thing he knew was a knock on the door, and Buffy sticking her head through. “Spike? Xander and Willow should be here in about half an hour, just to let you know. Do you want to eat?”

He pushed himself up from the bed, realizing belatedly that he was wearing nothing but a towel, and that it was slipping alarmingly. “Yeah. I’ll be down in a minute, Slayer.” He waited until she shut the door, and then quickly dressed in his usual black jeans and black tee. Lucky for him, he had more than one pair and he’d left a lot of stuff behind. Luckier still he could get them to fit, as much weight as he’d lost. He’d have to see about putting a few pounds back on so he didn’t look so much like those famine victims he’d seen while in Africa.

He checked himself in the mirror, still slightly amazed at his own reflection, and not liking it very much. He had a hard enough time looking other people in the eyes, let alone himself. As odd as it was, he was glad Buffy had clipped his hair as short as she had. Shorter than it had ever been, that was for sure, but it was easier to take care of, and it was nothing like he’d ever had before, which seemed fitting. He was nothing like he’d ever been before.

He came down the stairs just as Xander and Willow walked in the front door. “Hey, Spike,” Willow greeted him. “You’re looking a lot better than you were when I saw you last time.”

“Thanks, Red. Feelin’ better.” He squinted at her slightly. “You sat with me for a while.”

“Yeah, when Buffy went on patrol,” she replied, pleased that he’d remembered. “You were still a little out of it.”

“Been out of it for months, Red,” he replied, a little of his old humor seeping back into his voice. “Only recently been feeling human.”

There was a long pause as they all considered what he’d said, and the tips of Spike’s ears turned red. “I meant—you know. Bloody hell.”

Xander took pity on him. “Come on, Spike,” he said, taking the other man by the arm. “I brought the beer.”

The dinner went a lot better than Spike had anticipated. Mostly, he just sat back and let the talk wash over him. It felt good though, better than hanging out with the gang had in the past. Before, he’d always felt as though he were on the outside, and there was even a little of that now, he supposed, but every so often Buffy or Willow or Dawn would look over at him. Or one of them would ask him a question, and it was obvious that they weren’t trying to pretend he wasn’t there.

After a while, the talk turned to Tara, reminiscing. It was natural, he knew, to remember the dead, to talk about them so their memory didn’t die. You could tell where people were in the healing process by listening to them talk about their loved ones a lot of times. When they could laugh over some remembered joke or anecdote, that was when you knew the wound was closing up, that they would be all right.

He listened as they talked about some joke Tara had told about Glory. No one had understood what she was talking about at the time, though if you got the reference, it was quite witty, and just what he would have expected from the shy Wiccan. “Good thing you were around, Spike,” Willow commented, causing him to look up sharply.

“What’s that, Red?” he asked.

“That was about the time Tara’s family showed up, you know. Said she was part demon and she had to come back with them?” Willow’s eyes were far away as she remembered.

Spike snorted indelicately. “Bollocks. Just a stupid story.”

Willow shook her head. “Maybe, but Tara didn’t think so, and I’m not sure the rest of us didn’t believe her jerk of a dad for at least a minute. She told me later she probably would have gone back with them if you hadn’t punched her in the nose.”

Spike brightened noticeably. “Really? Always felt a bit bad about that. Didn’t really want to hurt her.”

Buffy watched as he and Willow talked, and she knew what her friend was doing. When Willow had come back from England, they had done their best to forgive her, to let her know that she was still welcome, but it had been hard. What had done the most to alleviate her depression was to remind her what she had done right. Focus on the positive, as Giles had suggested when he said Willow was coming home. She had told the witch that Spike had seemed broken to her, and her friend had nodded, saying she understood completely. She was grateful that Willow, at least, was willing to give him a chance.

Xander was doing his best to be civil though, and Buffy had to give him credit. His reaction to Spike this time around was a lot more mature than it had been in the past. And Spike seemed to be doing his best not to aggravate the other man. Buffy wondered if he was just trying to keep a low profile, or if it was something deeper than that. It was really hard to tell.

Once they’d finished dinner, they all pitched in to help clean up, and Buffy noticed that Spike slipped outside onto the back porch as soon as he could. She waited until the kitchen was clean, and then let the rest of her friends head off to the living room to argue over what movie to watch first. Buffy went out the back door and sat down next to him on the steps. “Hey,” she greeted him. “You left the party.”

“’M not used to that many people in a room anymore, I guess. Spent the better part of the last year on my own, not talkin’ to much of anybody.” He looked over at her and gave her a bit of a smile.

“It’s pretty out tonight, isn’t it?” she asked quietly, looking up at the sky.

“You should see the sky in Africa,” he murmured. “They’re all different stars, different constellations, and so clear you think you could reach up and touch them.”

They sat in silence for a minute, until Buffy said, “I’ve missed this.”

“Missed what?”

“Sitting out here with you, while you smoked or whatever. Just talking.” She glanced over at him, thinking that he no longer reminded her so much of the night. He wasn’t as pale, though he was fair skinned, and his hair was darker. He was a creature of the day, now, whatever he had been. He belonged to the sunlight as much as she did. “Do you remember the first night we sat out here? It was right after my mom got diagnosed, and you showed up with a shotgun. And then you sat down and listened. It was the best thing anyone could have done for me.”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I was planning on killing you, and you looked up at me and you’d been crying. Loved you then, I did.”

Buffy hesitated, and then said quietly, “What I said to you, earlier that night, about being beneath me? Was that why you wanted to kill me?” She remembered that scene so clearly in the alley. He, waiting for her acknowledgement, for something from her. She, disgusted with what he’d done, and by how he’d told it, as though it were some great thing. Shoving him away, tossing the money at him as she realized how heavy the air had become with sexual tension. Knowing now how it must have cut to hear her say it, whether he had deserved it or not. She had proved her assertion false long ago.

“Aside from the fact that you were the Slayer and I was the slayer of Slayers?” he asked, his head cocked slightly to one side. “Yeah. Those are actually the exact words the woman I loved said to me right before I got bit. Go figure.”

Buffy reached out and touched his arm. “I’m sorry, Spike.”

“I was beneath you, Slayer,” he replied, looking at her gravely, with no hint of his usual playfulness. The old Spike would have taken that and made it into some kind of sexual innuendo. This version simply accepted that statement at its face value.

“No,” she replied simply. “I don’t think you were.” She looked off into the distance, and spoke softly. “After Angel came back from hell or wherever, he was pretty much insane. I went to Giles and gave him a hypothetical of if someone came back from a demon dimension, what would he be like? He said there were two kinds of monsters, the kind that couldn’t be redeemed, that would always be evil. And then there was the second kind, who both could be redeemed and who wanted to be redeemed.” She looked over at Spike and waited until he met her eyes. “I think you fell into the second category. I just wish I’d seen it sooner.”

A pained look passed over his face, and he reached up to gently cup her cheek in his hand. “I was trying to hide that bit of myself, Buffy. Would have been insulted if you’d thought I was anything but evil. We all make our own choices.”

“Maybe, but I wish I’d made better ones.” She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “The others should have agreed on a movie by now. You want to watch one with us?”

Spike hesitated, then nodded. “Think I’d like that, Slayer.”

Chapter 3: Wanting What You Can’t Have

“Now I don’t want to beg you baby,/For something maybe you could never give./I’m not looking for the rest of your life,/I just want another chance to live.” ~Patti Griffin

They were halfway through the movie, some comedy about space aliens that Xander had picked up, when the phone rang. Buffy rose to answer it, and Xander called after her, “Do you want us to stop the movie, Buf?”

“Just a second,” she replied, picking up the handset. “Hello? Oh, hi, Giles.”

Xander held up the remote and pointed to the TV, raising his eyebrows in question. Buffy shook her head and waved them on, taking the phone into the kitchen. “Sorry, Giles. I just needed to get to a different room.”

“Is this a bad time, Buffy? I can make it quick.” She heard the concern in his tone, and wished she could tell him once and for all that he didn’t have to worry about her. But that was what he did. He was as locked into his role as her Watcher as she was into her role as the Slayer.

“No, we were all just watching a movie. I’ve seen it before, anyway, so no biggie.” She tried to make her tone as light as possible. “Isn’t it a little early in the morning, even for you?”

“As a matter of fact, it is,” he replied. “I had an early meeting, however, and thought I might be able to catch you.”

“So what’s up?” she asked cautiously. She really wanted to know why he was calling before she dumped any news on him.

“Well, actually, I’m coming back for a visit,” he replied. There was a long pause. “Buffy? Are you all right?”

“Of course,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be okay? Except for the fact that I’m trying very hard not to pass out from shock. There isn’t some apocalypse that I should know about, right?”

He chuckled. “I know it’s been a while since I’ve been back for a real visit, but I plan on staying a couple weeks. I know you have that extra bedroom since Willow moved out, and I hate to invite myself, but I thought it would be a good chance for us to get reacquainted.”

Buffy closed her eyes. “Yeah, about that room. There’s actually someone staying there right now.”

The surprise in Giles’ voice was evident. “Who? Did Willow move back in then?”

“It’s Spike,” she said bluntly. “He came back a few days ago.”

“And he’s staying at your house, Buffy?” Giles asked incredulously. “After everything you told me, do you really think that’s wise?”

She sighed. She could hear something like disappointment in Giles’ tone, along with the requisite worry. “It’s different, Giles. He’s—he’s human. He has a soul.”

The long silence told her everything she needed to know, and a small part of her wished she could see his face. She had a feeling it was one of those Kodak moments. “Giles?”

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I could have sworn you said Spike was human,” he said.

“He is. And he has—well, he had malaria. He’s still not in the best shape.” Buffy rubbed her eyes tiredly. “He’s changed, Giles. It’s like—it’s like something inside him is broken. I was hoping you would know something, be able to tell me something that would help.”

“So you were going to tell me about this sooner rather than later?” her Watcher asked, a bit of wry humor in his tone.

Buffy wasn’t in the mood for one of his lectures. “I’m serious. He was really sick, and I’ve just been trying to deal with all of that, plus work, plus everything else. I haven’t had a lot of breathing room until today, and I really didn’t want to deal with this.”

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” he replied, sounding as though he really meant it. “From what I know, it took Angel over a century to get to what he was when you met him. That Spike would be feeling a bit raw over his soul and his humanity is not surprising. Rather the contrary, in fact.” He hesitated. “I’m still coming out. Besides seeing you, I have responsibilities at the Magic Box I’ve been neglecting for far too long. I can certainly get a hotel room or something, however.”

“No, we’ll figure something out. I’ll talk to Spike and Dawn and see what we can do. Xander’s a lot further along on the basement, so we might be able to set something up down there.” Buffy smiled reflectively. “I am glad you’re coming, Giles. It’s been too long.”

“Indeed it has,” he said warmly. “Let me give you the dates and the flight information now. We’ll talk again as the date’s closer. Is Anya there?” he asked, nonchalantly. “I thought I might ask her something.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. About the only person who was oblivious to Giles and Anya’s attraction to each other was Xander, but then, he was busy with his own life at this point. He and the ex-vengeance demon were friendly, but they weren’t friends. “No, but I think she said something about necessary inventory when I asked her to come over this evening,” she replied. “You might be able to catch her at the Magic Box if it’s urgent.”

“No, it’s not terribly urgent,” he replied. He rattled off the flight and arrival information for her, and Buffy wrote it on the wall calendar.

“All right,” she said cheerfully. “I guess we’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

“Are you all right, Buffy?” he asked gently. He knew her so well, she thought, even thousands of miles removed.

“I think I will be,” she responded. “I thought I was done with this, you know. Everything I was feeling. I thought I’d just deal and move on. It’s never that easy, is it?”

“I wish I could tell you that it was, Buffy,” Giles said quietly. “I’ll do what I can for you, but this is something you’ll have to figure out for yourself, I’m afraid. There’s not even much I can do in the way of advice anymore.”

“I know. I’ll see you in a couple weeks, Giles.” She hung up the phone and leaned her head against the doorjamb.

“Is everything alright, Slayer?”

She turned to see Spike looking at her with that same look in his eyes he’d had that night in the Bronze after Giles had left. As though he’d wanted nothing more than to take every burden she bore and shoulder them for her. “Giles is coming for a visit in a couple weeks,” she replied, not answering the question. “He was thinking he was going to stay here.”

Spike looked puzzled. “He’ll stay in my room, then,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“Spike, he didn’t know you were here. He thought the room was unoccupied. Or at least, he thought a room was unoccupied,” Buffy explained patiently.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll sleep on the couch while he’s here.” He regarded her with a sort of wistfulness that Buffy couldn’t quite interpret.

She smiled at him. “Thanks, Spike. I’ll pass it along, let him know he doesn’t have to stay in a hotel or anything.”

“That’s alright then,” he said. He looked at her again for a long moment, hands shoved deep into his pockets, as though he were afraid to touch anything. “Think I’ll be heading up to bed now, Slayer. I’m a bit knackered.”

“Spike—” she called after him. He turned to look at her, waiting patiently. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

He glanced down at the floor. “G’night.” Buffy watched him go, and wondered what she was going to do next.

Spike lay in the dark, wide awake. He’d had yet another nightmare. It seemed as though he would never be able to sleep soundly again. Some nights he was able to go back to sleep after he woke, but tonight wasn’t one of those. To get his mind off the grisly images, he thought of Buffy. She had been rather cool towards him the last week or so. It seemed to him as though now that he was getting better, her concern had changed into distance. He had wondered if having a soul, being human again, would change things between the two of them, but all it had changed was the fact that she felt responsible for him now.

It was killing him to be so close to her and not to touch her, not to take her in his arms, but he considered it just penance for what he’d done. And he wasn’t going be the one to make the first move. He couldn’t be sure of what he saw, what he knew anymore. He’d been so certain that she’d loved him, and had ended up destroying any hope he’d ever had. No, this time she would have to be the one to call the shots, and if she wanted him to stay for a while, he’d stay. And if she wanted him to go, he would do that too. His humanity hadn’t changed the way he felt for Buffy, but it had given him a bit more insight into why she’d been so reluctant to be with him in the first place, and he thought he might have a little more patience at least. He loved her; that wasn’t going to change. He would wait for her until the end of the world.

The sound of the bedroom door opening broke the silence, and Spike lay still and silent. She stood in the doorway, her figure outlined by the dim moonlight streaming through the window. When she didn’t move, he called to her. “Slayer? Is something wrong?”

She stepped into the room, closer to him. “Spike? I thought you were asleep.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Is there something you need?” he asked.

“I had a bad dream,” she confessed, sounding like a little girl. “I just wanted to be sure you were okay.”

He hesitated, knowing that he might be breaking some invisible boundary, but he went ahead anyway. “Come ‘ere,” he said, patting the bed beside him. When she didn’t move, he hastened to clarify. “I’m not talking about shagging, Slayer, and I’m not starkers. With you and Dawn popping your heads in at all hours, no chance of doing that. Just thought you might not want to be alone.”

She came to him then, climbing under the comforter he held up for her, moving her body so that it was tucked in close to his. He wrapped an arm around her middle, careful not to touch anything he shouldn’t. She fit so perfectly with him. There had been few opportunities, if any, to spoon like this when they’d been sleeping with each other. She hadn’t wanted it, and he hadn’t pressed the issue, taking what he could get. He realized, with a sinking feeling, that he would still take what he could get. He was lost in her still.

“Thanks, Spike,” she said quietly, into the darkness. “I needed to feel safe.”

“You feel safe with me?” he asked, surprised.

She paused, then admitted, “Yeah. I do.”

“Because of the soul.”

“No, because of who you are,” she said softly. “Let’s face it, Spike. I was a bitch, and I drove you crazy. No, that doesn’t make it right, and it doesn’t make it my fault, but I know you didn’t want what happened any more than I did.”

“I’m sorry.” The weight of sorrow on his words made her chest ache.

“I know. It’s done. It’s past. I forgive you.”

Absolution should have felt like more than this, he thought. It should have felt good, and to a certain extent it did, but he realized that it would take a lot longer for him to forgive himself. And that it might never happen. Her next question surprised him. “Do you trust me?”

It would have been easier to lie. On the other hand, it was easier to tell her the truth when he didn’t have to look her in the eye. “I’d trust you with my life, Slayer. But I don’t trust this. I keep thinkin’ I’m going to wake up one of these days and this will all just disappear.”

“Oh. I guess I understand,” she said almost sadly. “I don’t know what I can give you, Spike. I don’t even know what I’m capable of giving you.”

His arm tightened around her. “I know. I’m not going anywhere, Slayer, unless you want me to.”

Her hand found his in the dark, and she laced her fingers with his where they rested on her abdomen. “I think they should change that line. ‘The only things that are sure in this life are death, taxes, and Spike.’ Except that doesn’t really work, either, does it? I mean, who says death is a sure thing?”

“I’d stay with you till the end of the world, but I need something from you too,” he said softly. “Just throw me a crumb.”

There was a long agonizing silence, and Spike thought that perhaps she wouldn’t be able to give him anything at all, that she would get up and leave. Instead, she tightened her grip on his hand. “I care about you a lot. I missed you while you were gone, and I don’t want you to leave now that you’re here. I don’t know what that means, but that’s how I feel.”

“If we do this, if we try again, I can’t be your secret,” he said. “If that’s what you want to do. If you really want to start over again.”

“No secrets,” she agreed. “Are you sure you won’t be ashamed to be seen with me?”

“Never happen,” he replied, pressing his lips to her hair. “Go to sleep, Slayer. I’ll make sure the bogeyman doesn’t show his ugly face around here again.” He held her as she drifted off to sleep, his breathing slowing to match hers, their hearts beating in tune. He didn’t sleep for a long time.

“Hey, Spike,” Xander greeted him as he came through the front door. “You coming with us tonight?”

Spike glanced up from the book he was reading, one he’d found on Joyce’s shelves. “That would depend on where you’re going, Harris.”

Xander looked confused. “I thought Buffy would have invited you. We’re going to the Bronze for some pre-Giles fun. Not that Giles isn’t a barrel of laughs, but he isn’t the kind of guy you take dancing, if you catch my drift.”

Spike’s face didn’t change, though something in his eyes did. “No, that’s all right. Still not quite feeling up to dancing the night away.”

“Sure, if that’s what you want,” Xander replied, feeling a slight sense of unease. He still didn’t like Spike, but there were times when it was nice to have another guy around, especially when you were surrounded by women.

Buffy came down the stairs and saw Xander standing by the door and Spike lounging on the couch. “Hey, Xander,” she said cheerfully. “Spike? Aren’t you coming?”

He glanced up sharply. “Didn’t know I was invited,” he said, a touch of ice in his tone. Xander, who wasn’t completely ignorant when it came to the guy-girl thing, decided to beat a stratigic retreat.

“I’ll be out in the car. Waiting. For whoever decides to come.” He backed out the door quickly. He’d seen their fights in the past, and they had a tendency to be rather spectacular.

Buffy ignored the door as it opened and then closed. “Of course you were invited. Why would you think otherwise?”

“Maybe because you’ve never been that interested in having me tag along before? Or maybe it was because I didn’t know you lot were going out till Harris asked me if I was coming. Take your pick.” His eyes were pure Spike, and Buffy wondered what had happened to the guy who’d been living in her house the last couple weeks. At the moment, it was the old Spike who was standing in her living room.

She was about to retort with a scathing comment, when she realized that he really wouldn’t know that it was a regular thing for them to go out on Tuesday nights that summer, since she didn’t have to work the next day and Willow didn’t have any morning classes. They’d dispensed with the ritual the previous week, and moved the gathering to her house for rather obvious reasons. Buffy closed her eyes, both to rein in her temper and to try to figure out how to try and defuse the situation. “You know, Spike, you really need to stop taking things so personally. Did it ever occur to you that I just forgot to tell you because it’s something we do every week?”

The anger in his eyes faded slightly, but he showed no indication of backing down. “Considering our track record, I was figuring on the whole neglecting to inform.”

“We’re not doing that anymore. Remember? We agreed.” Buffy met his eyes, holding them with her gaze. “Why don’t we start over. Would you like to come to the Bronze with us tonight, Spike?”

He hesitated, and for a minute Buffy was certain he was about to refuse. “Yeah, guess I will.”

“Good,” she said. “Xander’s meeting his date there, Willow’s bringing her date, and Dawn is going to be with friends. I’m relying on you to save me from feeling like the fifth wheel.”

Spike smiled a little, and Buffy knew that it was going to be okay. “Always did want to be your white knight, luv.”

Spike listened absently as Kelly talked about her day to an attentive Xander. Buffy had gone off to get something to eat, Willow and her friend were out on the dance floor having a grand time, and Dawn was sitting at the edge of a circle of teenagers gathered in a corner. Even though the ex-vampire had his eye out for Buffy’s return, he was also keeping a careful eye on his Bit, who didn’t look as though she were having as much fun as she should be. Spike knew all too well what it meant to be on the fringes, and it looked like that’s where Dawn was getting shunted off to. He watched, and did nothing, knowing that it was simply one of those things.

His eyes found Buffy as she moved through the crowd gracefully, carrying a platter of buffalo wings. “You remembered,” he said, grinning as she set them down on the table.

She snorted. “Of course I remembered. You probably missed the wings more than you missed me.”

“My heart has always been yours,” he said grandly. “But I’ll admit the spicy wings were a close second.” Spike flashed her a smirk. “I was feelin’ a mite peckish.”

Buffy sat down next to him as he reached for one of the wings. “You’ve been hungry for the last two weeks straight, Spike. What’s new?” She watched as Xander pulled his date out onto the floor, and her eyes scanned the room. As was her habit, she checked the exits, looked the room over for any members of the undead who hadn’t figured out that this wasn’t their personal lunch box, and checked her friends’ locations.

“How’s the Niblet doin’?” Spike asked quietly, licking his fingers.

Buffy looked at him in surprise. “She’s doing great, Spike. She’s actually got some normal friends, she did great in school, she’s making some money this summer working for Anya and babysitting. You know all that.” Concern edged into her voice. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s nothin’, Slayer. S’pose I’m just jumping at shadows,” he replied.

“I’ve never known you to be one to jump at shadows,” she said. “In fact, if I remember correctly, you were the guy who ran after them to pick a fight. What is it?”

He hesitated. “She’s on the fringe, Slayer. Look at her, watch the way she moves, the way the rest of them move around her. Were I still a vampire and out on the prowl, she’d be the one I’d go for. Those are the easiest to catch, the ones on the outside. Not saying she’s in danger, I’m just wonderin’ if she’s happy.”

Buffy watched her sister as he spoke, and she began to realize what he said was true. “How did I not see it?” she asked, glancing over at him.

“Not to be rude, but you’ve never been on the outside before. From things you’ve said in the past, you were popular before you became the Chosen One, and you were the leader of the Scoobies after that.” His eyes grew darker and far away. “I’ve never belonged in my life. I recognize that look she’s got in her eyes. And I hunted humans for over a century; I know what kinds to look for.”

A sadness filled Buffy’s face. “I wish I could do something for her.”

“Can’t, though,” he replied. “This is something the Bit will have to struggle through on her own.”

“I know. I think it’s a mom thing, but I just want to protect her from all that, you know?” She smiled a little. “I remember when mom first found out I was the Slayer. She totally flipped, wanted me to stop. Asked me if there wasn’t something I could do so I didn’t have to do it anymore. I was so pissed at her for not understanding, but I think I get it a little now, why she lost it like that.”

“Things like that you don’t understand till you’ve got little ones of your own or a little sis to look out for,” he said, smiling. “Your mum would be proud of you, Buffy.

She met his blue eyes with her own. “There are a lot of things I’ve done that I’m glad she doesn’t know about.” He didn’t reply, and his hand moved as though to touch her, but he pulled back and looked away. He was afraid to offer comfort for fear that she would toss it aside as she had so many times in the past. Buffy took his hand. “Come on, Spike. Dance with me.”

Not giving him a chance to refuse, she pulled him out on the floor. The first couple were fast, and Spike found that dancing with Buffy was a lot like fighting by her side. They moved as one, matching each other move for move. From the very first, it had been that way for them. They had been connected, no matter how hard they’d each tried to fight it.

He didn’t remember Buffy dancing with him before. She hadn’t even wanted to be seen with him in public, so it wasn’t like they were going to get together at the Bronze for anything more than a little back corner necking, or, well, other things that could be done in dark corners. But he thought he’d take the dancing in public over a cloak and dagger quickie any day. The song switched to a slower one, and Spike was ready to leave the dance floor in case she wasn’t in the mood, but she put her arms around his neck and pulled him close.

The band was a good one, with a female lead and three guys playing guitar, drums, and bass. He thought he remembered Buffy saying something about it being a local group that had been playing pretty regularly.

“I’ll be the first to admit I screwed things up,

All my words like arrows pricking you

Till you lay bleeding on the floor.

And I’ll be the first to admit it might be better

To call it quits and let it go.

And I’d like to say it might be better if

We just went home.

And I can’t find the words that’ll make you stay,

But I can’t find the strength to let you go.

I think missing you might kill me,

If I let you walk away.

But in my own defense, let me just tell you,

I’ve been bruised soul deep,

And I’ve got scars you can’t see.

Let me make it clear I’d love to love you,

You’re the best thing to come along.

But the last time I loved and it ended,

I just about died.

And I can’t find the words that’ll make you stay,

But I can’t find the strength to let you go.

I think missing you might kill me,

If I let you walk away.

But if you’ll just be patient with me,

Let me find the strength to build my faith,

Tell me again you’ll never leave me,

And I promise to say the words that’ll make you stay,

I promise you’ll never want to go,

‘Cause I know missing you would kill me,

If I let you walk away.”

When the song was over, Buffy rested her head on his chest for one brief, beautiful moment. “It’s getting late,” she whispered. “We’d probably better get you to bed, Spike.”

Chapter 4: Searching for the Words

“You know it only breaks my heart/to see you standing in the dark/Alone, waiting there for me/to come back./I’m too afraid to show/That it’s coming over you/like it’s coming over me/crashing like a tidal wave/that drags me out to sea./And I want to be with you/if you want to be with me/crashing like a tidal wave/and I don’t want to be stranded.” ~Plumb

“Spike! Let’s go, we’re gonna be late,” Buffy called. She waited as he climbed the stairs from the basement. “How’s it working for you down there?” she asked.

“Fine, Slayer. I’ll be right comfy.” He looked a little uncertain. “You sure you want me along for this little mission?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “One person doesn’t make a welcome party, Spike. And, since Dawn’s babysitting, Xander had to work, Willow has class, and Anya had to work at the shop, you’re it.”

Spike shrugged. “Well, if you say so. But I’m driving.”

“Wait just a minute,” Buffy protested. “I’m perfectly capable of driving. Not only that, but it’s my car.”

“I’ve been driving longer than you’ve been alive, Slayer,” he explained patiently, with a quirk of his scarred eyebrow. “I’ve never been in an accident I didn’t want to cause, and I’ve never gotten a ticket. And I’m not ridin’ in a car where you’re in the driver’s seat.”

“You don’t have a driver’s license,” Buffy pointed out triumphantly. “There’s no way you’re going to be driving.”

“Used to be evil, remember? Lack of a driver’s license isn’t gonna stop me.” Spike said with a smirk. “Besides, I told you, I’ve never gotten a ticket. We’re not gonna get pulled over.” He held out his hand for the keys, and while he had a smirk on his face, the look in his eyes told Buffy that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Don’t you trust me?” she asked, pouting slightly.

“Behind the wheel? Never.”

Which was why she let him drive. She didn’t mind going alone to pick Giles up from the airport, but she’d told the truth when she’d said that one person didn’t really make a welcome party. And she wanted him along for other reasons as well. Whatever the night before had been, it was as close to a date as she’d been on in a long time, and it awoke in her feelings she was still trying to sort out. She knew she was still attracted to Spike, that had never been an issue, but she wasn’t sure what she felt. Was she in love? Had she been in love with him before he left, and simply never admitted it to herself? Was it his soul, his humanity that attracted her to him now, or was it simply him? Until she figured it out, she wanted to be around him as much as possible, to observe him, try and figure out what it was that made him tick. And a part of her that whispered in the back of her mind told her that she might be able to put him back together again, to heal some of the damage that last year had done to both of them.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Spike looked over at her, and then turned his eyes back to the road. “Go ahead.”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘Slayer?’” she asked. “I don’t think you’ve called me by my name more than once since you’ve been back. In fact, I don’t think you’ve called me anything else.” She watched his face carefully for any clue as to what he was thinking. Something there triggered a reaction in her. “Are you doing this to punish me somehow?”

“It’s not about punishing you. In fact, it’s not about you at all.” Spike kept his eyes on the road. “Why don’t we shelve this? Now’s not the time.”

“Now is the perfect time,” Buffy objected. “If we don’t talk about this now, we’ll never talk about it. And with my luck, by the time we get around to talking about it, you’ll have skipped town. So excuse me if I don’t want to wait.”

“I’m driving here, luv.” His jaw was tight with anger, and Buffy was confused to put it mildly. Everything had been going just fine, and then she asked a simple question and opened a can of worms.

“I called the airport before we left. Giles’ flight was delayed by thirty minutes. We have some time.” Her tone of voice brooked no argument.

Spike flipped the blinker on, his lips set in a straight line. He pulled over to the side of the road and turned the car off. “Fine. Here we are. Let’s talk.”

Buffy turned to face him. “Well, you can start with why you feel it’s necessary to keep calling me Slayer, as if I don’t already know what I am, and then you can finish up by telling me why you’re so bad moody. Come on, Spike. I thought things were going okay.”

“It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” he demanded. “Where do you get off accusing me of trying to punish you? I do something you don’t like and I’m in the wrong, while if I say anything to you about something I don’t like, you storm off. Well, it’s not that easy, Buffy.”

“Spike—” Buffy tried to interrupt, wanting to know where all this anger was coming from.

“Guess what?” he said. “It’s not about you this time. This is about me trying to protect m’self. In all the years I’ve known you, the only piece of you you let me touch was the Slayer. I saw glimpses of Buffy, but I never touched her. I thought I could be a better man for you. I tried. You hated me, before and after I gave you every reason to, and I went over in my head a thousand ways to apologize, and none of them were any good. I thought I’d come back and you’d toss me out or put a stake through me, but I knew I had to try and make it right.”

He put his head down, no longer looking at her. “I get back and I get bloody Florence Nightingale. And you’re lookin’ at me like—” he broke off abruptly. Getting himself under control, he started again. “And then you’re all cold again, and then you’re in my bed, and then you’re dancin’ with me like nothin’ ever happened. What am I supposed to think? I need some distance with you. I can’t do this again. I’m not strong enough.”

Buffy took in a deep breath. It was probably a good thing they were in a car a good distance from her house, and were expected at the airport, because if she had a choice, she’d probably walk away. He was broken, and she had been playing with him again. She didn’t know what she wanted, but she’d expected him both to be constant in his affections for her, and to let her call the shots and set the timeline.

“Spike, I’m sorry. I haven’t been fair to you,” she said.

He laughed bitterly. “Yeah, well, I figured that one out a long time ago. This soul didn’t just convince me of what a monster I was, Buffy, it also made me realize what you did to me. Didn’t feel it before, not like I do now, and I know enough to know I can’t go through it again. Like I said, ‘m not strong. And I haven’t changed all that much.”

Buffy shook her head. “Spike, I think you’re one of the strongest people I know. And you’ve changed, I mean—”

“You mean the whole bein’ human, havin’ a soul thing? Buffy, the soul’s a leash, just like the chip was a leash. I’m still the same man I was.” He refused to meet her eyes.

Buffy reached over and touched the side of his face and winced when he pulled away. “You’re right. It wasn’t fair to accuse you of trying to hurt me before I heard your side. And you’re right to say I haven’t been fair to your feelings. I know how you feel about me, and I was taking that for granted while I tried to figure out how I felt about you.”

He shook his head. Now that they were actually talking about this, he wanted to stop. He’d heard this song and dance before, and he really didn’t want to hear it again. “Buffy—”

“No, I let you talk. It’s my turn.” She gave him a wry little smile. “Besides, I’m actually talking about how I feel. If the world doesn’t end in the next few minutes, I’d think you’d be happy.” He couldn’t help but smile back, and nodded for her to go on. “I hate to say it, but you’re right. You’re still the same Spike, and I’m still the same Buffy. Which definitely could be a bad thing.”

Buffy took a deep breath and continued. “But we’re not the same people we were a year ago, not really. I couldn’t love you before because I couldn’t trust you, but it wasn’t about you being evil as much as it was about me not being able to trust another vampire to love me. I loved Angel, and I had to kill him. When he had his soul. He was the only man I’ve ever loved, the only one I ever said I love you to, and I had to stick a sword in him and send him to hell. So maybe you can see my problem in even thinking I might love another vampire.”

“And now I’m human,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, you are. And I can’t even tell you what I feel about that or about you. But isn’t that why people date?” she asked. “To find out if they like each other enough to love each other? And maybe you don’t think so, but I think you might want to find out if I’m still a person you can be in love with. And I’d like to get to know you, too.”

He finally met her eyes, and he saw that it had scared her to death to talk to him as she had, and that she really wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t reject both her and her offer out of hand. “Are you askin’ me out? As in, public dating? No dark corners, alley ways, or demon bars kind of dating, but you tellin’ all your friends we’re goin’ out kind of dating.”

She smiled. “Yeah. No alleys unless you really wanna go. And definitely no more Willie’s with the kitten poker.”

“And no shaggin’.”

Her eyes widened. “Did that just come out of your mouth? Because I could swear you just said no sex.”

“That’s what I said, and I mean it, luv. It might mean a lot of cold showers for me, but I need for this to be more than just a nice romp this time around.” Spike was smirking, but there was pain behind his smile, and Buffy knew herself to be the cause of it.

“And you want to make sure I’m not using you again,” she said softly. He didn’t have to reply, and she continued. “That’s fair. No shags until we’re both ready.”

Spike’s lips twitched. “That’s shaggin’, Buffy. All right, then. You gonna tell Rupert that you’re datin’ an ex-vampire?”

“Of course,” she replied, slightly stung by his tone of voice. As though he thought she didn’t have the guts. She’d told him they’d slept together, hadn’t she? He looked over and raised one eyebrow, and Buffy knew exactly what he was thinking. “Today, Spike. I’m going to tell him today.”

“Right.” He flipped the blinker on and pulled back out onto the road once it was clear.

“Do you think this’ll ever get better?” she asked wistfully.

“What will get better?” he asked, his eyes once again on the road.

She shrugged. “Actually being able to get through a conversation without bringing up all those bad thoughts. Just being a normal couple.”

“We’re a couple?” He glanced over at her, and his face was a boy’s face. And for a moment, all the years washed away, and they might have been any other couple on the way to the airport to pick up a friend. And he might have been a guy who got the girl of his dreams. And she might have been a girl who realized she’d found somebody who might end up being the one. But the moment passed, and they were Buffy and Spike again. Except that now she felt as though there might be a little hope for them.

“Yeah, silly. I think that’s what we just decided.”

“Are you sure this is what you really want?” he asked quietly. “You could probably do better.”

Buffy studied his face for a long moment. “I think that’s debatable.”

Chapter 5: Success Unknown

“Success is counted sweetest/By those who ne’er succeed./To comprehend a nectar/ Requires sorest need./Not one of all the purple host/Who took the flag to-day/Can tell the definition,/So clear, of victory,/As he, defeated, dying,/On whose forbidden ear/The distant strains of triumph/Break, agonized and clear.” ~Emily Dickinson

He spotted Buffy easily enough, standing by the baggage claim. She was chatting up a thin, lanky young man, and he found that curiously appropriate. His Slayer had never missed an opportunity to flirt, though he had to admit that there was something familiar about her companion, as though he’d seen him somewhere before. She saw him before he got a dozen steps closer, and came to greet him. “Giles!”

Giles enfolded her in a warm embrace. “Buffy.” He pulled back to get a better look at her. “You’re looking particularly well.”

“Thank you. You’re not looking too bad youself,” she replied cheerfully. Giles had to admit (though only to himself) that he’d been more than a bit concerned about her after hearing of Spike’s return. Whatever it had meant to her, however, she seemed to be dealing with it well enough.

She pulled back slightly and looked over her shoulder at the young man that she’d been talking to, and Giles suddenly realized why he had looked so familiar. “Good Lord. Spike!” he exclaimed unnecessarily.

Spike seemed more embarrassed than offended by Giles’ faltering manners, and merely shuffled his feet, murmuring a somewhat shy greeting. “Rupert.”

Giles’ English manners turned themselves back on, and he went to greet the ex-vampire with no little curiosity. “Forgive me. Buffy had told me you’d changed in appearance, but I wasn’t expecting you to look quite so well after a bout with malaria.”

“Good save, Giles,” Buffy said with a smirk, watching as Spike considered the hand the Watcher held out. He seemed to briefly debate the merits of shaking hands, as though Giles might have a stake hidden up his sleeve somewhere, but finally met it with a firm grip.

“Ta, Rupert.”

There was an awkward silence as everyone looked at one another and tried to figure out what they were supposed to say next. When the baggage carousel began to turn, Spike looked at it in relief. “I’ll get your bags then, if you wouldn’t mind pointing ‘em out to me.”

“Certainly,” the older man replied, relieved. “Tell me, Buffy, how is everyone?”

“Good,” Buffy replied, more at ease than either of the men. “I was actually the only one who didn’t have to work today. Dawn was going to come, but she got called yesterday to babysit and couldn’t pass it up.”

“I’m certain that meeting me at the airport falls a distant second to earning a bit more pocket money,” Giles said with a smile.

Buffy nodded and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “We’re doing a lot better on the money front, but there’s still things that she has to get herself if she wants them. Right now I think the goal is a new leather jacket.”

“A laudable achievement,” was the comment, as he kept an eye out for his bags. “There, the garment bag coming up is mine.”

Spike snagged it from the belt in one easy motion. “Any more?”

“One large black one,” Giles replied. “Then Dawn is doing well?”

Buffy hesitated slightly. “I think so. Spike thinks she may be having some adjustment issues with the crowd she’s been hanging out with this summer.”

They both looked at Spike, who looked around at the mention of his name. “Just seems to me that the Bit’s out on the fringes a little. Might pass over time, ‘specially if this is a new group she’s been hanging with.”

“Spike is probably right, Buffy,” Giles said encouragingly. “I remember you were once outside the in-crowd.”

“Yeah, but I was in really good company,” she replied. “Oh, I’m just being a mommy. It’s probably not a big deal.”

Giles took a moment to point out his last bag, and Spike pulled it off the carousel. “That’s it,” he said, watching as Spike allowed Buffy to grab the suitcase while he took the garment bag. He followed them out to the car, realizing that Buffy had not been wrong where Spike was concerned. He was different; quieter, more reserved. There was a lack of self-assurance, even a shyness, in his body language that had never been there before. Buffy had described him as broken, and while Giles could certainly see why, he wasn’t so sure. He remembered a very young version of himself who had just discovered the limits of hubris. Humility was a form of brokenness, but very beneficial in its way.

Spike unlocked the back of the Jeep and loaded the bags. Giles frowned as he realized that he was planning on driving. “Spike? You’re driving?”

“As I explained to the Slayer, Rupert, I’ve been driving probably longer than either one of you have been alive and I’ve never gotten pulled over.” He paused. “Well, strictly speaking, that isn’t true.”

“Wait a minute,” Buffy said, eyeing him narrowly. “You said you’d never gotten a ticket. That’s one of the reasons I let you drive.”

He looked completely innocent. “I told you the truth, luv. I never did get a ticket. Got pulled over though, once in the ‘80’s for speeding.”

Giles regarded him suspiciously. “And how did you get out of receiving a ticket?”

Spike looked from one to the other of them in surprise. “I used my charm to convince the nice copper to give me a warning,” he said sarcastically. “I was evil. What do you think I did?”

Buffy stared at him. “You ate a cop?”

“Like you’ve never been on the wrong side of the law before,” he scoffed.

Buffy hesitated and then nodded without much good grace. “Okay, maybe, but I’ve never eaten the law. Giles, I don’t suppose you still have your California driver’s license?”

“Come on, Slayer,” Spike protested. “I got you here safely. I’ll get you back safely.”

“Oh, let him drive Buffy. I’m sure he’ll be whinging the entire way to your house otherwise.” Giles was watching the interplay between the two of them with much interest. There was a playfulness there that hadn’t been in the past. They’d always harassed one another mercilessly, but there had always been a hint of malice under the surface from at least one or the other of them. Now, however, there was no anger, nothing but an easy-going friendliness. Considering how their relationship had ended, it seemed that much had happened in the last two weeks.

Spike did indeed get them home safely, and even delivered Giles’ bags to his room before pleading exhaustion and disappearing to the basement. Giles watched him go thoughtfully. “I take it he’s staying downstairs.”

“Yeah, Xander had pretty much finished it. We set up a cot. He thought it would be more private than staying on the couch, and he still sleeps at weird hours sometimes.” Her eyes had followed him downstairs, and she turned to look at Giles. “I know you’re probably tired, but do you want to go for a walk?”

“I’ve been sitting for hours,” Giles replied. “It would be nice to stretch my legs.”

They ambled along with no particular destination in mind, Giles enjoying the midafternoon sun. He found it bemusing that he had missed the rain and the mist of England while in sunny California, and then had missed the sun when he’d returned. “So, tell me, Buffy,” he invited. “How is everything going?”

He listened as she rambled on, talking about how Xander was getting on, and Anya and the shop, and Dawn. Basically, everything except for how she herself was doing, and how Spike’s return had effected her. Giles let her run down and then decided to ask a question that was a bit more specific. “And how is the new job?”

She smiled, a look of true pleasure crossing her face. “It’s good. It can be completely boring, but it’s definitely better than burger-flipping. No more greasy Buffy, and the discounts are more to my taste. It’s definitely helping prevent my wardrobe from taking huge slaying-related hits.”

“Well, we certainly couldn’t be having that,” Giles replied drily.

Buffy nudged him with her elbow. “Don’t laugh. A girl likes to look good while fighting evil. It’s important.”

“I’m sure.” He smiled. It was good to be home again. “And Spike?”

“So now we get to the important stuff I’d rather avoid, huh?” Buffy looked off into the distance. “He has changed, Giles.”

Giles nodded. “I believe he has. I’m more interested in how you’re dealing with his return. After the way it ended between the two of you…” he trailed off. Buffy had told him enough about their relationship for him to be concerned about Spike’s presence in her home.

“You and everybody else. Giles, what happened is between Spike and I, and it’s going to stay that way.” She looked off into the distance. “He still loves me. How incredible is that?”

He looked at her in sympathy. “Not so remarkable considering both the source and its recipient.”

“We’re dating.”

Giles looked at her in what could only be described as alarm. “Again? Do you really believe that to be a good idea?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, giving him a dirty look. “It’s not again. We weren’t dating the first time around. And, yes, I think it’s a really good idea. We’re taking it slow, just trying to find out if we really even like each other that much.”

“A relationship is not built on the feelings of one person,” he warned her. “I dislike saying it, but while Spike may have changed, have you? Is what led up to that particular ending different enough so that it won’t happen again?”

She looked grave. “Yeah, I think so. If not, this time one of us will walk away.”

“Are you certain?”

She faced him squarely. “If I don’t walk away, Spike will. And I won’t hurt him again.” Buffy bit her lip. “I know you don’t like this, Giles, and I’m not asking you to give your blessing, but could you just go easy on him?”

Giles had wondered if she loved him, and if he were to be truthful, he was not certain that she did. But there was a look in her eyes that had not previously been there, and that she would be willing to protect him, even from her Watcher, said a lot. She had protected Angel too. “I don’t know this Spike, Buffy. If he’s as different as you claim, I don’t think I could stand in your way, even if I should like to. Until I know more, I won’t make a judgment.”

She smiled, relieved. “Thanks.”

Giles made his way down to the basement, walking softly. Xander had done a good job, managing to get a storage area made, fixing the water damage, and installing a wood floor that was perfect for training with the additional mats Buffy had laid out. Weapons hung on the walls and a punching bag hung from the ceiling. Spike’s cot was against the far wall, and he lay sprawled out, a book in one pale, long-fingered hand, reading. “Looking for something, Rupert?” he asked, not looking up.

“For you, actually, Spike. I wanted to talk to you.” He watched as Spike put the book down and sat up to face him. Watched as he swallowed nervously and nodded, not quite meeting his eyes.

“All right then.”

“Buffy told me you were dating.” Giles was amused at his startled _expression. “Did you think she was going to keep it a secret from everyone?”

He motioned with his shoulders, an uncomfortable shrug. “Didn’t want her to, but yeah, I didn’t expect her to tell anyone. You going to tell me to get the hell out of town, Watcher?”

Giles met the other man’s eyes and saw youth and naked vulnerability there. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but he understood that what he was seeing was both the man the vampire had been as well as the vampire he had become. It was a curious combination, and it hit Giles that this was going to be a difficult road for both of them. “No. I went back to England so that Buffy would learn to make her own decisions. I can hardly return only to insist on making such a decision for her.”

“I don’t want to hurt her.”

“I know.” And Giles did know. This stranger before him was suddenly a very lost young man with a mild resemblence to a vampire he once knew. “I wanted to give you something.”

He handed a manilla envelope to the younger man and sat down on a folding chair that had been leaning against the wall. Spike pulled out the contents, his eyes widening as he realized what it contained. “How?” he managed.

Giles watched as he pored over the birth certificate, passport, driver’s license, and various assorted documents that identified him as a real person. “I called in some favors and rearranged a branch on the family tree.” At his startled reaction, Giles raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I would actually bring forgeries into the country with me, did you? This is not a good time to attempt that kind of smuggling. All the information is exact, save for the last name. According to the paperwork, we are very distantly related. Third cousins, twice removed, or something like that.”

Spike shook his head. “I don’t understand. You hate me.”

“No, I don’t hate you. I wouldn’t confess to actually liking you either, but I do not hate you. Buffy needs an ally, Spike, and you cannot be that in your present state without some options and a modicum of protection. Proper documentation grants you both.” Giles regarded him for a long moment. “What are your intentions toward her at this point?”

Spike gazed at the paperwork with something like awe. “This must have cost a pretty penny, Rupert. I can’t pay you back.” He looked at the Watcher and then glanced away again at his implacable look. “I thought to come back and apologize, let her kick me in the teeth a few times if she wanted. Then I’d stay or go, whatever she wanted. I never expected this to be it.” He shrugged. “I just want her to be happy. That’s all.”

“And yourself?” Giles asked.

Spike looked at him as though he’d grown a second head. “What do you mean?”

“What do you want for yourself, Spike?”

Spike’s look didn’t change. “I want her to be happy.”

Giles nodded. “I see. I’d like you to do me a favor.”

Nodding, Spike replied, “If I can, I will. I owe you for this.”

“I have a friend who teaches at the university and she’s been having a problem that’s stumped us both. I’d like you to see if you couldn’t be of some help.” Giles prayed that this worked. He hadn’t been certain of his actions before he got to Sunnydale, but he thought he could kill two birds with one stone. Spike needed someone to help him get on his feet again, and Elizabeth needed help that she couldn’t find elsewhere.

“What makes you think I could do anything for her?” Spike asked.

“I believe you received a university education, did you not?” When Spike nodded, Giles continued. “My friend is head of the classics and ancient religions department. There’s a document that talks about a particular ritual along with a certain artifact. I thought you might be familiar with one or the other.”

Spike looked unsure. “I’ll try, Rupert, but I can’t make any promises.”

“I’m not expecting a miracle, nor am I requiring that you accomplish anything. I just thought you might be able to shed some light.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good.” Giles stood. “I believe the others should be here shortly, if you feel up to dinner with all of us.”

“Why not?” Spike said, and Giles could hear him muttering faintly as he climbed the stairs. “This should be an interesting evening.”

Buffy glanced around the room, alarmed to find Spike absent. She looked over at Dawn who was listening absently to the conversation. “Dawn, have you seen Spike?”

Dawn looked over at her sister in surprise. “He went downstairs about a half hour ago. Do you want me to check on him?”

Buffy hesitated and decided to allow her sister to go down. As much as she wanted to see how he was, she didn’t want to make a scene. She’d had her share of the whole emotional sharing thing for one day. “Will you?” she asked with relief.

Dawn nodded, not saying that she had really wanted to talk to him anyway, away from everyone else. As close as she and Buffy had grown, there were still some things she didn’t really want to talk to her sister about, namely anything that would give lie to the fact that she was a popular, well-adjusted teenager. She descended the stairs to the basement, and saw immediately that Spike was sitting cross-legged on his cot, reading. “Hi, Niblet,” he said, looking up at her.

“Buffy wanted me to check on you and make sure you’re okay,” Dawn said, feeling lame even as she did.

“I’m fine, Bit. I just needed some space, that’s all.” He looked at her steadily. “What’s on your mind?” he asked quietly, his dark blue eyes serious and intent.

“I wanted to ask you something.” When he nodded, she continued. “Why do some people fit in and others don’t?”

That caused both eyebrows to raise. “I’m not sure I’m the right person to ask,” he replied. “I’ve never fit in anywhere.”

“You fit in with me and Buffy,” she replied, stung.

He smiled a little then, sadly. “You can fit with a person sometimes even when you can’t make it in the crowd they run with. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t seem to fit in anywhere at all,” she replied, misery evident in her voice and face.

“Come ‘ere,” he replied, patting the bed beside him. She sat down, and he put a friendly arm around her shoulders. “This about your friends at the Bronze the other night?”

“They’re not my friends,” she replied automatically. “Janice started hanging with them a lot, and they really like her. And they let me tag along, but they’re not my friends.”

Spike sighed. He wasn’t sure he was cut out for this gig. Everything he touched in life seemed to turn to dust and ashes, and he didn’t want to screw this up. “I would have to say fitting in is a little like falling in love,” he said thoughtfully. “It has to do with chemistry, and liking the same things, and having the same interests. And sometimes, through no fault of their own, a person just doesn’t make the cut.”

Dawn looked as though she were about to cry. “So you mean I’m doomed? I’m never going to have any friends at all?”

Spike rolled his eyes and snorted. “I didn’t say anything o’ the sort, Dawn, and you know it. All I’m saying is that you might not fit in with this crowd, but it’s nothin’ about you. It’s just about how things happen sometimes. Give it time. You’ll find some kids your own age who like you fine. No reason why anyone wouldn’t.”

Dawn leaned back against Spike and wished she could just stay there. She’d always felt safe with him, and being with him now made her believe that everything might be okay. “You said you never fit in? Not even before you were a vampire?”

“No,” he said softly, remembering. “I didn’t have a place then, but I wanted one.”

“And after you became a vampire?” she asked.

It hadn’t all been roses and the hunt, Spike remembered. It had also meant pain, and fearing Angelus, and knowing he was the youngest of their family and the most expendable. And it had meant knowing, somewhere deep down inside of him, that Drusilla didn’t love him nearly as much as he loved her. “It was better. The best times were when it was just me and Dru, after Angelus got his soul and Darla left us alone.”

“And then?” Dawn asked. It helped to know someone else had been in the same boat she was in, even someone as cool as Spike had been.

“And then your sister put me in a chair and I helped her save the world. That was pretty much the end of it for me, Bit. You know the rest of the story.” He looked at her and smiled. “You’ve got more going for you than I ever did. You’ve got friends, and a sister who thinks the world of you, and for what it’s worth, you’ve got me. You’re beautiful and smart and full of all kinds o’ potential. You just sit tight, be yourself, and things’ll work themselves out.”

“Thanks, Spike,” she said, hugging him. “I think I’m going to go back upstairs. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“I think I’m going to try to sleep in a while,” he replied. “You go ahead.” He watched her go up the stairs and laid back on the bed. “So maybe I didn’t screw that up…” he whispered to the ceiling.

The body has memories of its own. Spike’s body remembered all kinds of things, and that’s usually what he dreamed of. Sometimes it was the taste of blood, the feel of it running down his face, his hands, his throat. And it was the sound of flesh ripping, of girls screaming, of harsh panting as they ran from him. And it was the smell of death, of endings, of wood. These were the dreams he had on some nights. But on others it was a different kind of memory, one where he felt fangs sinking into the soft flesh of his throat, heard Drusilla’s seductive offer, and chose once again, over and over again, to take on the form of the demon. These were the nights he woke covered in sweat and unable to return to sleep.

But there were other things that were there, buried deep within his mind. He had realized when he returned that he had each of their scents memorized, Buffy’s, and Dawn’s, and Giles’ and the other Scoobies’, so that even if he no longer had the amplified olfactory sense of a vampire, he knew when one of them came into a room. And he remembered the speed and the strength being a vampire had given him with longing when faced with tiredness, and hunger, and thirst, and cold, and sickness. But he had faced all of these head-on while making his way back to Buffy. He had learned to fight with more cunning and less speed, more wisdom and less strength. Spike, who had known no retreat, had come to understand its strategic value, and had accepted it. As he had accepted the fact that Buffy would never love him. As he accepted the fact that with the return of his humanity would possibly come the return of William, and that he would be nothing again, though he realized that in a very real way he had been less than nothing before. Nothing more than animated dust.

Which was why it amazed him when he woke from his nightmare, sweaty and panicked and exhausted, that he could scent Buffy in the room, and he called out to her.

“Spike? I thought you were asleep.” She came toward him, and he could make out the dim outline of her form in the darkness.

“I was.” He pushed himself up into a sitting position as she came to sit down beside him.

“Another nightmare?” she asked quietly. “Maybe we could get Willow to make something for you. Nothing drastic, just something that might help with the dreams.”

He shook his head. “I’ll get through them.”

“You know, macho ex-vampires are really not attractive,” she replied, but he could hear the smile in her voice, and he took no offense. “Let me try to help you.”

“I still don’t know why you’d want to,” he replied.

“Because I can.” Buffy sighed and reached out to smooth back sweat-soaked hair. “You took off pretty early this evening,” she commented.

He shook his head, though he didn’t move away from her touch. “It’s not me anymore, Buffy,” he replied. “Like I’ve said, I spent most of last year alone, and I realized I liked it. I liked the quiet. And I don’t fit in with your Scoobies. I never have.”

“You could,” she insisted. “You just need to give them a chance.”

“Give me some time,” he pleaded. “I just need a little time.”

Her hand stilled on his forehead, and then she touched the side of his face gently. “Take all the time you need,” she replied. “You gave that to me when I came back from the dead. But, Spike—please don’t run away from me.”

“Never you, luv.”

“Come on,” she said finally, after a long silence. “You really need to get some sleep.”

He shook his head. “I’m not going to be able to sleep again tonight, Buffy. You might as well go to bed.”

“I’m still wired from patrol,” she replied. “It’s all right. I’ll keep the bad dreams away.”

He lay down obediently, too tired to argue with her. “I’m going to start patrolling with you.”

“Yeah, right,” she replied. “Go to sleep, Spike.”

“If I don’t go with you, I’ll follow you,” he insisted. “I’m serious, Buffy. I may not be a vampire, but I’ve got a hundred years worth of fighting experience stored up. I can bloody well take care of m’self.”

She smiled at his indignant tone, and realized that he was probably right. “Besides,” he went on, oblivious to the fact that she was about to capitulate, “you’ve been lettin’ the Scoobies tag along with you and they don’t even have half the experience that I do.”

“You’re right. It’s stupid of me to even think about not letting you come along.” She laid her fingers across his lips. “But, Spike? Go to sleep.”

It was corny, and it was something that he’d never have admitted to, but with Buffy sitting next to him, he was willing to believe that the nightmares might not come back, that she might actually be able to chase them off. And so he slept as she watched.

Chapter 6: The Faults of Men

“No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:/Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud./Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,/And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud./All men make faults, and even I in this,/Authorizing thy trespass with compare,/ Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,/Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are;/For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense--/Thy adverse party is thy advocate--/And ‘gainst myself a lawful plea commence./Such civil war is in my love and hate,/That I an accessory needs must be/To that sweet thief which hourly robs from me.” ~Shakespeare

Giles was taking his first sip of coffee when Spike wandered up the stairs from the basement. “Oi, Rupert,” Spike said, yawning.

“Good morning, Spike,” he replied. “Sleep well?”

The younger man considered his question for a moment, then shrugged. “Well enough. Would you mind me using your loo? The girls’ll be up any minute and I’ve still got my clothes in your room.”

He nodded. “Certainly. Though, I would remind you we’re going to meet my friend at the university later.”

Spike nodded, then flushed slightly. “Hope you didn’t need me lookin’ any nicer, Watcher. I don’t have much in the way of clothes.”

“Whatever you have will be fine, I’m sure. Elizabeth isn’t one for pretense.” He watched as Spike went out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the second level. The younger man did seem a little more rested today, though there was still a worn look about him. Well, he hoped Liz would be able to do something for him.

“Hey, Giles,” Buffy said, coming into the kitchen. “You’re up early.”

“As are you,” he pointed out. “I happen to have an appoinment at the university this morning. I’m taking Spike to see an old friend of mine.”

Buffy glanced over at him, a sly look in her eyes. “Your friend is old, right?”

He gave her the look he always gave her when he thought she was being silly. “Actually, she is old. Probably twenty years my senior, though she would string me up if she knew I’d said that.”

“My lips are sealed,” Buffy replied, pouring herself some coffee. “Is Spike up yet?” she asked nonchalantly.

“He went to get cleaned up in the master bathroom, I believe.” Giles watched as Buffy puttered around the kitchen, pouring herself a bowl of cereal and trying not to look as though she were waiting for something. Or someone.

Spike came downstairs just a few minutes later, dressed in the requisite black jeans and a blue t-shirt that looked new. His hair was still damp from his shower, and Giles couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed to freeze when he looked at Buffy. As though he couldn’t quite believe his good fortune. As though she were going to turn on him at any moment. He was still wound wire-tight, and that wouldn’t change until he felt more secure in who he was and what he had to offer.

“Hey, Spike,” Buffy said softly. “I like the blue.”

The ex-vampire looked suddenly shy. “Yeah, thanks for that, luv.”

“Sit down,” she said. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

“I got it,” he replied. “Better drink your coffee before you have to leave for work.” She touched his arm as she passed him in the narrow confines of the kitchen, and he flinched slightly. It was one thing to take her caresses in the night. He knew about that, knew that was where their relationship had always belonged. But when she touched him like that, casually, in the daylight, it felt wrong. Good, but wrong, as though a bolt of lightning were about to come down out of the sky at any moment. Their eyes met then, and something passed between them, a sort of understanding that made Buffy actually grab his hand and give it a squeeze. And then she let him go, and the moment passed, and he went on to eat his breakfast.

Buffy left in a whirl fifteen minutes later, and Dawn came down the stairs to join the men in the kitchen. “Buffy already leave?”

“Yeah, Bit, you just missed her,” Spike replied, giving Dawn’s hair a friendly pull.

“Stop that,” she said, but there was no irritation in her voice. “What are you guys doing today?” she asked.

“We have an appointment to see one of my friends at the university,” Giles replied.

Spike immediately caught the disappointed look on her face, and he glanced over at the Watcher, meeting his eyes. “Maybe you could come with us, Bit. The appointment shouldn’t take that long, at least they won’t need me for much. An hour or so, we’ll get out of there, do something.”

“Really?” she asked. “You wouldn’t mind?” she asked, turning to Giles.

“I believe something to that effect might be arranged,” he replied. “But you’ll have to hurry, Dawn. We need to leave in a half hour.”

“I’m on it,” Dawn replied, racing up the stairs, leaving the two men to their coffee.

“Sorry if you didn’t want company, Rupert, but the Bit’s feelin’ down and out lately. Wanted to cheer her up if I could.” Giles normally stern features softened when he saw the earnestness on Spike’s face.

“It’s quite all right. We’ll work it out when we get there. Speaking of—” he went to the door as the doorbell rang and collected the keys to his rental car from the driver. “I will say this for Americans. They’re rather good when it comes to convenience.”

Spike frowned slightly as Giles’ voice floated into the kitchen, remembering another time when convenience was so all-bloody important. His memory flashed back, and he shook it off. There was something in his Slayer’s eyes that hadn’t been there before, something in her smile. And yet, she might have told her Watcher about their relationship, but the real test would be whether or not she told her friends, and what she would do when the inevitable storm broke. Then he would see whether he would be staying or going, because he needed something more from Buffy. He needed her to back him to the fullest, because he didn’t have the resources to keep himself together without that this time around.

Spike followed Giles into the narrow hallway leading to the Classics department. “Doesn’t look like much,” Spike muttered.

“It’s a bit cramped,” Giles admitted, “but it seems to be a common malady in Classics departments the world over. It’s only the science buildings that get all the space, you know.”

“Rupert?” An older woman exited one of the office doors, smiling. “It’s so good to see you again.” She walked up to Giles and pulled him into an embrace, which he returned warmly.

“It’s good to see you too, Lizzie.” Giles pulled back and looked back at his companions. “Lizzie, this is Sp—er, William, and Dawn. This is Dr. Kearns”

“Ah, of course.” She smiled at both of them impartially. Spike thought she was probably somewhere around her late sixties or early seventies. Her iron gray hair was cut stylishly short, and the lines around her mouth and eyes were those that came from a lifetime of laughter. Her dark eyes were warm, and there was an immediate sense of connection. He liked this woman.

“Dawn is Buffy’s younger sister. I told you about both of them, I believe.” Giles gently pushed Dawn forward, and the girl complied by holding out her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Dawn said self-consciously.

Liz shook her hand. “It’s my pleasure,” she replied, sounding as though she meant it. “You know, Rupert, I hardly think Dawn wants to be cooped up with a couple old fogies. Why don’t you leave William and I to talk and come back in an hour or so? We can catch up then.”

“If you’re sure?” Giles replied uncertainly.

“Well, I won’t bite, and I’m sure William won’t.” There was a hint of mischief in her voice that made Spike’s eyes narrow suspiciously, wondering what exactly Giles had told her about him.

“Yes, well,” Giles muttered. “We’ll be back in about an hour then.”

Spike wasn’t precisely worried about being left alone with Dr. Kearns, but he had the distinct impression that the Watcher hadn’t told him everything, and he didn’t like that feeling one bit. Liz turned to him, smiling. “I suppose Giles didn’t tell you anything.”

Spike hesitated, hands sunk deep into his pockets and shoulders hunched. “Well, he told me you had a problem an’ I could help you solve it.”

She smiled. “That’s the truth, but not the whole of it. Come on in, and I’ll explain the rest.” She led him into the office. “Would you like a cuppa?”

“Please.” She pointed him to a chair by his desk and poured two mugs of tea.

“The problem that I need help with involves finding a graduate assistant,” she explained, handing him a mug.

Spike frowned. “He thought I could help you find an assistant?”

“No, he thought you would be perfect.”

“Me?” Spike sputtered. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Why would I be? From what Rupert said, you received a degree from Cambridge.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“And you received a classical education? Which would make you fluent in both Latin and Greek.” She regarded him calmly.

Spike wasn’t sure where this line of questioning was going, but he was willing to follow along for a while. “That’s right.”

Liz smiled. “Really? That’s very unusual these days.”

“My father was a stickler,” Spike said smoothly. It wasn’t precisely a lie, since his father had been a stickler. And after his father died, his mother had insisted on a good education for her son, believing it to be his best chance and his best asset.

“And when exactly did you graduate from Cambridge?” she asked.

Spike froze. He knew there had been a revised college diploma in with the rest of the documents that Giles had handed him, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember the date. And he knew that Liz probably knew. Meeting her eyes he realized that his earlier impression had been correct, and he decided to go for the truth, assuming she already knew it. “1878. But you already knew that.”

Her lips twitched. “I did. You must understand, William, that I have had three different assistants in three years. And I like to keep my assistants until they graduate.” She paused to sip her tea. “Those who come here are unacquainted with the realities of magic, especially as they manifest on the Hellmouth. I believe my first student was killed, probably by vampires, though she just disappeared one day. The second informed me very politely after the first semester that this wasn’t what he signed up for and left to pursue other avenues.”

“Both common maladies in Sunnydale,” he observed, with a twist of his lips. “And the third?”

“Was sucked in. He decided he liked magic and its effects more than studying it, and he left to pursue the black arts.” Liz met his eyes, any hint of humor gone. “When Rupert told me he may have solved my problem, I was skeptical. But with your background, you understand both the reality and the danger inherent in magic of any kind, even if we are simply doing research about ancient practices and religions. If you are willing to give it a go, I would be.”

“You’re right,” Spike said quietly. “I don’t trust magic. Sounds absurd comin’ from me, but it’s not really natural, and it’s dangerous. There’re always consequences. Seen some of ‘em first hand.”

“You’re talking about Buffy,” Dr. Kearns said quietly.

“Damn right,” Spike replied. “Rupert told you about it.”

She nodded. “I was one of those he consulted after the spell was done. There’s a bit more to this job than just research. You’d be a full-fledged graduate student, which means taking classes, and you’d be teaching my Greek mythology course, as well as helping me with the beginning Greek and Latin classes. Is this something you’d consider doing?”

“I don’t know why you’d want me,” he replied. “My Greek and Latin are rusty, to say the least, and I haven’t been in a classroom in over a century. There’s got to be blokes more qualified than I am.”

“I believe your wide knowledge of the supernatural more than compensates,” Liz responded. “Have you ever taught before?”

Spike paused, and then shrugged sheepishly. “Yeh, I taught. Was pretty decent at it really. I still don’t understand why you want me, though.”

She smiled slightly. “Did Rupert tell you where we met?” When he shook his head, she went on. “It was after he registered at university for the second time. He’d gone through his youthful rebellion, and had wound up being a party to the death of a friend. Rupert was in a great deal of emotional pain when he came to me. I’d asked to have a student assigned to me as a research assistant and he volunteered. There were those who called me crazy, literally, for taking him on. There were rumors flying as to what had really happened, and I knew there was some truth to them, mostly because I asked him. But I believed he wanted to change. When Rupert called me, he told me much the same thing about you.”

“So you want to put the pieces back together?” Spike asked, his tone bitter.

“Is that what you want?” she asked. “I need an assistant. You need a job. It sounds like a match made in heaven to me.”

“I’m assumin’ my services don’t come for free,” he said.

“There’s a significant stipend, which would be retroactive to the beginning of this summer if you’d be willing to start on Monday,” Liz replied, her tone coaxing.

Spike was still hesitant. This wasn’t what he had pictured himself doing, and yet this was something William would have wanted so long ago. The man Spike had been was a scholar and a teacher, and he’d been very good at both, though he’d sucked as a poet. The demon he’d been wouldn’t have admitted to opening a book if his life depended on it, though he certainly had read on and off over the years. But now, he was neither and both of those, and he had no idea what or who he wanted to be. On the other hand, this was something he could do, and it would allow him to help Buffy. Perhaps for now that was enough. “I’ll be here Monday,” he said.

“It’ll be good to have you on board, William,” she replied. “Though, I must suggest that you find another wardrobe by the time school begins. Nothing fancy, but the Classics department tends to be a bit more on the stuffy side than some of the others. No tie or jacket required, but you might think about getting that girlfriend of yours to take you shopping.”

He stared at her in horror. “Don’t think so. I can dress myself.” He stood with his hand on the door, and she saw that he suddenly looked very young. “You really think you’re doin’ the right thing, Doc? ‘M known for my stunning ability to bollocks things up.”

Liz smiled. “I have every confidence in you, William. Look at my last success. With any luck you’ll turn out like Rupert.”

“Please God no,” he muttered reverently under his breath, joining Dawn and the Watcher out in the hallway, Liz’s peals of laughter echoing behind him.

“So let me get this straight,” Dawn said. “You’re getting paid to go to school and do research.”

“Well, I’ll be teaching a class too,” Spike replied. They were walking through campus amiably, enjoying the weather and one another’s company.

“That is so cool,” Dawn said, giving her seal of approval. “I’d like school so much better if I got paid to go. Do you think I could convince…”

“Not much chance of that,” Spike replied, smiling. “But stick with it long enough, and you too may become one of the privileged few.”

“I still can’t believe you graduated from college,” Dawn replied, grinning at him. “I mean, you never seemed like the type.”

“Was that an insult, Bit?” he asked mildly.

“No,” Dawn said. “Well, maybe a little bit of an insult, but I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that you were more, I don’t know, the rock band type or something.”

“Thanks, I think,” he replied.

“But I think it’s cool,” she insisted. “That you could do both, you know. Kind of be both.”

He gave her an intense look. “Just because people think of you one way, doesn’t mean you can’t go and upset all their expectations, Bit. I’ve been doin’ that for years now.”

Dawn looked a little uncomfortable, knowing that he was talking about her situation with her friends. “It’s not that easy in high school, Spike. Besides, nobody really knows what to expect from you anymore. You’re sorta unpredictable.”

Spike understood better than Dawn knew, but there wasn’t any way for him to tell her that and have her believe him. He was, to put it in cliched terms, way too old to understand the current state of things in public high schools. What Dawn didn’t realize yet was that very little changed, even in a century or more. “How do you think I got that way, Niblet? At some point you gotta decide to say, ‘Sod off,’ and just go about your business.”

Dawn just shrugged, knowing he was probably right, but certain that it wasn’t that easy. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, pet.”

“What happens if you and Buffy break up again?” Her face was solemn as she watched him.

“What makes you think we’re goin’ out again in the first place?” he asked, frowning.

She rolled her eyes, a classic Summers gesture. “Because Buffy told me last night.”

“Oh,” he replied, ingeniusly. “Well, I suppose I walk.”

“You’d leave again?” she asked.

He stared at her. “I’d move out, yeah, but I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He smiled at her reassuringly. “You’re always gonna be my girl, Lil’ Bit, no matter what happens between your sis and I.”

“That’s okay then,” Dawn said. They walked along towards the Summers residence in companionable silence. As they were nearing the house, Dawn looked over at Spike with a question she was too scared to voice.

“Spill it,” he said, catching her look.

“Do you miss it? Being a vampire I mean?”

He shook his head in wonder. Trust Dawn to be the one to ask him that question. Buffy would wonder, but never say anything, and the rest of the Scoobies would assume or make snide comments, but the Bit had a characteristic directness when it came to Spike that let him know on exactly what ground he stood with her at all times. It was refreshing and a bit scary all at once, and it definitely kept him on his toes. “Being a vampire is about doing what you want, taking what you want, when you want,” he replied thoughtfully after a moment’s silence. “And I could tell you that I don’t miss that, but I’d be lying. Because you’ve got this strength and power that no human could ever have, except maybe for the Slayer, and it’s like a drug almost. It’s why there isn’t a vampire in history would do what I’ve done.”

“So you do miss it,” Dawn stated. “Would you go back then?”

“Not for all the tea in China,” he said decisively, and when she frowned, he glanced up at the sky, trying to find the words to explain. “You think bein’ a vampire is about freedom, and when that’s what you are, it’s true. You think about all those little humans, running around, tied to their lives, and you think you’ve got it made, right? But people have the ability to walk in the sun, and marry and have kiddies, and the white picket fence an’ all that. And you can see beauty for what it is without wantin’ to destroy it, and you can love someone without everybody thinkin’ you’d gone off your nut.”

Spike looked at her intently. “Whatever I might have wanted when I asked for my soul back, I wouldn’t change one thing, because I got half a chance at doin’ all those things vampires can’t even hope for. No way would I go back to what I was, Bit, because it was a prison of sorts. I tried to break out of it for the longest time, and maybe under better circumstances I might of made it, but this seems to be the only way.”

Dawn hesitated, and then reached out to touch his arm. “I’m really glad you came back, Spike.” It was the only gift she had to give him, the only thing she could think of to say to all that. And it seemed to be enough.

He slung an arm around her shoulders companionably. “Come on, Bit. I saw Rupert givin’ you some entertainment money, let’s go get entertained.”

“Hey, Dawn,” Buffy said as she walked into the kitchen. “Did you and Spike have a nice time today?”

Dawn grinned. “Yeah. We went out to lunch and then to a movie. It was a lot of fun, you know? He’s really easy to be around.”

Buffy smiled, “Yeah, I suppose he is.” Though what she was really thinking was that it wasn’t that easy when you were still trying to figure out whether or not you were in love with him. “Where is Spike?”

“Downstairs. He said he wanted to work out and take a shower before everybody comes over tonight.”

“Thanks,” Buffy murmured absently as she headed towards the basement. She could hear the sounds of fists on a punching bag as she came down, and soon saw him. He was barechested, his pale skin gleaming with sweat, muscles twisting with his movements. He had always been lean, and while he was still too thin, he didn’t look quite as bony. In fact, he looked just plain good. Pure physical attraction hit her somewhere below the belt.

“Hey,” he said, pausing, though not turning around. “How was work?”

“Good,” she replied. “I picked up another couple shirts for you. They were on sale and with my discount, it was just too much of a good deal to pass up.”

He turned to look at her. “You shouldn’t do that, pet. I can buy my own clothes.”

Buffy’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, yeah, how? And besides, even if you could, I wanted to.”

He smiled, pleased, though there was a touch of smugness in his face. “Actually, starting Monday, I’m gainfully employed, luv.”

Her eyes widened. “What? Where?”

“Two very well articulated questions,” he teased. Taking pity, he explained. “Rupert’s friend was in need of a graduate assistant, and he recommended me. Wouldn’t have said yes, except the stipend was actually quite good. And it’s something I know—or at least I knew how to do it, once upon a time.”

Buffy’s face broke out into a smile. “That’s really wonderful, Spike. I’m proud of you.”

Something seemed to light him up from the inside out. “Yeah? Wasn’t much to it, really. If it had been that easy to get a position back when—”

“Still, you’re doing something really worthwhile. I mean, a graduate assistant.” Suddenly Buffy realized exactly what that meant. “Wait a minute. Does that mean you’re going to be a doctor? Like, Dr. Spike? And I haven’t even finished college yet. What does that say about me?”

Spike took her by the arms. “First of all, luv, I finished college over a hundred years ago, so I had a bit of a head start on you. And second, I don’t even know if this is something I want to do. I’ll give the good doctor a bit of a hand, see if it’s something I want to stick with, and give it some time. Don’t know that I’ll last that long.”

“If you want to, you will,” Buffy said quietly. “You could do pretty much anything you put your mind to, Spike.”

“Except be a successful vampire,” he said wryly.

“At the moment, I am so thinking that’s a good thing,” she replied, suddenly realizing how close he was to her, and how nice he looked, and how much—

He broke away abruptly. “I should probably shower. Can’t smell very nice, after all that.”

“Wait,” Buffy called. “I was going to put in some training time. Do you want to help?”

“Only if you want me to, luv.”

She nodded. “I want you to. Let me go get changed.”

They trained hard for another hour, Buffy noticing that Spike’s endurance had gotten a lot better over the last couple weeks. While he was still tired a lot of the time, she thought that it was probably more due to the nightmares and not sleeping than the after-effects of his illness. His speed had changed, as had his strength, but he’d found ways around it. Spike had always been a cunning fighter, and now it was even more pronounced. And while she pulled her punches, it didn’t take her long to realize that he could still absorb a lot of punishment and keep coming. His persistance hadn’t changed a bit.

In the end, they both lay on the mat spent, Buffy grinning happily. “It’s been forever since I’ve had a training session that was that good,” she commented. “Some of those moves, I’ve never seen you use them before.”

Spike grimaced. “Well, you try going halfway ‘round the globe with no identification and no cash. Had to make up quite a few moves just to stay in one piece.”

“Will you tell me about it someday?” Buffy asked.

He propped himself up on one elbow to look at her. “Tell you about this last year, you mean?” He considered. “Someday I will, pet. But it’s a little too close for comfort if you know what I mean. Still can’t seem to sleep without one eye open, waitin’ for trouble.”

“I understand,” Buffy said quietly. “It’s still a little too fresh to deal with right now. Like it’ll creep up and bite you in the ass if you think about it too much.”

He gave her his lopsided grin. “That’s it. Had too many things taking chunks out of my arse recently to give something else a shot. I’d like to tell you about it, though.”

Smiling, she replied. “Well, just let me know when and I’ll be listen-y Buffy. I’ve gotten pretty good at it in the last year.”

“I’ll just bet you have, pet,” he replied. “We’d probably better get cleaned up though.”

“Yeah.” It was like the end of a first date where neither person knows what to do or say to end the evening. Do you kiss? Do you hug? Do you jump his bones right there on the exercise mat? Thinking about it, Buffy figured the last one was out. Spike had definitely made that option off limits, though she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have minded. Instead, she twisted to her feet in a patented Buffy move to get off the floor fast, and reached a hand down to help him up. “It would be nice to have some company on patrol tonight,” she said when they were both standing. “No heroics, but I’d like it if you wanted to come along.” At least this way she could prolong the moment.

Spike smiled as though he knew exactly what she was feeling and was enjoying her discomfort. “Then I’d like to go.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, whispering in her ear, “You’re gorgeous after a good bout, luv.” And then he took the stairs two at a time, whistling a happy tune.

Spike watched. More than anything, it was what he did now. Taste the room, the people, the moods. Find out what everyone is thinking, what people aren’t saying. Figure out what they’re feeling. He’d always been good at that, reading the Scoobies, understanding their strengths and weaknesses, where the cracks in their armor were. A couple years ago he filed it away so he could use it later to get under their collective skin. Today it was simply information, a habit that he’d picked up over the last century of living. Tonight, he was feeling a little uncomfortable. He’d more or less promised Buffy to stick around, and since he was going on patrol later, he couldn’t very well plead exhaustion and go to bed. But he’d immediately realized that Xander was in a bad mood, and from the glances he’d been getting from the other man all evening, he had a feeling that it would eventually turn into a round of kick-the-Spike.

Sure enough, at a lull in the conversation, Xander looked over at him, and asked snidely, “So, Spike, you ever think about getting a job? Maybe stop mooching off Buffy?”

Before Spike could frame a decent comeback, Giles stepped in. “Actually, Xander, Spike has a job. Liz Kearns, the head of the Classics department at the university, has hired him as a research assistant.”

Xander looked like someone had just hit him with a two-by-four. Whatever he had been expecting, that wasn’t it. Willow looked surprised, but also excited. “Dr. Kearns? She’s one of the foremost experts of the uses of ritual and magic in the ancient world. Her research is absolutely incredible.” She gave him a big smile. “That’s great that you get to work for her, Spike. I mean, what an opportunity!”

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Red. We’ll see if she still wants me around at the end of the semester.”

“Are you going to be teaching any of her classes?” Willow asked. “Her grad assistants usually teach the intro course for Greek Mythology.”

Spike nodded. “Yeah, guess I will be teaching that one. Like I said, we’ll see if she still wants to keep me on at the end of the semester. Hard to tell really.”

Willow shook her head. “I’ve heard stories about some of the TA’s for the Classics department. You can’t be any worse than the rest of them.”

He shrugged, a bit embarrassed by the attention and her unequivocal support. He hadn’t really been sure that Buffy would be all that impressed, but to have both Red and the Slayer on his side, cheering him on, was a completely new experience.

“I think you’ll do great too,” Buffy said, slipping her hand into his. She’d deliberately taken a seat next to him on the couch, which had raised Xander’s eyebrows, but Spike had seen it as a very subtle way of making a statement. He decided to make it a little less subtle.

Lifting her hand up to his mouth, he kissed her knuckles. “Thanks, pet.”

Buffy’s eyes sparkled with mischief, knowing exactly what he was doing. When she didn’t say anything or try to pull her hand away, Xander spoke up, as Spike knew he would. “Is there something going on here that we should know about?”

Spike waited. There was still time for her to back out of it, to deny all knowledge, but instead she just smiled. “Spike and I are dating,” she said calmly.

“You and Spike are what?” he asked incredulously. “What is it with you and vampires, Buffy?”

Spike watched as annoyance flickered across her face. “Spike’s not a vampire anymore, Xander.”

“Oh, right,” the carpenter said sourly. “He’s just the ex-vampire who tried to rape you. Yeah, he’s breathing, Buf, but he’s still Spike.”

“Which I happen to feel is a good thing,” she replied, heat in her tone. “Xander, what is your problem?”

“Look, Buffy, I get that he came back and he was sick and you wanted to take care of him. But he’s obviously better now, and after what he did to you, I’d think you’d send him on his way, not date him again. Are you just keeping him around to f—”

Buffy’s glare stopped him before he got the last word out, but not before it hung in the air, unsaid but understood. A hushed silence fell, and even Spike had nothing to say right away. But just as he gathered himself up to give Xander a good tongue-lashing followed by a fist in the face, Buffy laid a hand on his arm and gave a quick shake of the head.

Spike looked at her, betrayal flashing across his features. He couldn’t believe that she was going to sit there and take it, or that she would ask him to. He stood abruptly, heading out of the room, a sour taste in his mouth. “Spike, wait,” she called after him. “I think you need to hear this just as much as everybody else.”

He paused in the doorway reluctantly. He didn’t want to hear her justifications or defenses. What he wanted was for her to tell the Whelp to sod off and get his own life instead of mucking about in hers, but that would be too much to hope for. But still he waited.

“I’m only going to say this once,” Buffy said quietly. “Spike and I are going out because we wanted to try to do things right this time, and we both feel like we have a shot at it. What happened between us is just that: between us. We’re trying to get past it, and we can’t do that if everyone is continually bringing it up. So that’s it. No more. We’ll work it out in our own time and in our own way.

“Another thing. Spike’s my boyfriend.” She looked directly at Xander as she said this. “That means hands off. And I mean that literally and figuratively, Xander. I have always been polite to the people you dated, and I expect the same treatment. You don’t make comments like that, not to me, not to a roomful of people, and not to Spike. He’s completely capable of taking care of himself, and after tonight I’m going to let him, but I want to let you know where I stand. There will be no more kicking of the Spike. If you can’t be polite, you’ll find yourself with a disinvite to this house until you can be, and I mean it.” With that, she turned and walked past Spike out of the room. He stood in the doorway, stunned, and then followed her out to the back porch.

“Well,” he said as he exited the back door. “That was something.” He sat down next to Buffy on the steps. She leaned into him briefly in greeting.

“I’m sorry that had to happen,” she said quietly.

“I’m not,” he replied. “Wouldn’t have passed that up for anything.”

Buffy looked over at him. “I really don’t get it. I swear he does this every time I have a new boyfriend. You think he’d just get over it.”

Spike raised an eyebrow in surprise. “He and the soldier boy seemed to get on well enough.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, Riley was a god,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Riley got himself sucked on by vampire chicks and then left. And then he came back with a new, perfect wife.” She paused, looking at him suspiciously. “Wait a minute here. You’re supposed to be on my side. I thought you hated Riley.”

“I did,” Spike said. “More accurately, I do. However, he’s the prat what ran off, and I’m the guy that got the girl. I can afford to be magnanimous.”

Buffy laughed and shook her head. “You’re too much, Spike. But you’re right. You got the girl.” They stared at each other for a long moment and Spike reached over to cup her cheek. “Kiss me,” she whispered, “or I swear I will kick your ass.”

His lips curved in a smile and he gave her exactly what she wanted.

Chapter 7: Baggage

“I guess you could say I’m a little afraid./What if you go away?/I’ve seen it before./I’ve been here before./If I have to love myself, tell me how to love myself./What’s there to love about myself?/I just want to see as a person you want me./But I’m feeling the pain of all these bags in the way,/and I’m thinking you’re just gonna run away,/and I can’t catch you./ I guess I would say that I want you to stay./’Cause you have this strange knack,/ adds a glow to my black as you chase it all away./And I hope that you can see that I will someday leave these things./I am waiting to be free./But I’m feeling the pain of all these bags in the way,/and I’m thinking you’re just gonna run away,/and I can’t catch you./Oh, I want to catch you.” ~Sixpence None the Richer

“You do realize that Dawn’s birthday is this week, don’t you?” Buffy walked next to Spike on patrol, their arms brushing occasionally.

His eyes widened in alarm. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

“Ooh. I guess not. I am so going to tell her you forgot,” she teased.

“I did not forget,” he protested indignantly. “I just didn’t realize it was this week. You could have reminded me earlier you know. What the hell am I going to get her now?” At the look on Buffy’s face he stood stock still. “Wait a soddin’ minute. You didn’t tell me on purpose. What plan is stewing in that devious little brain of yours?”

Buffy hesitated, and then decided to come clean. “Look, I know you don’t have a lot of money right now—”

“Try any money,” Spike mumbled. “Don’t get paid for another couple weeks. You know that.”

“Right, which is my point.” Buffy laid a hand on his arm. “The thing is, Dawn doesn’t have her driver’s license yet. Mostly because me teaching someone how to drive is a really bad idea.” At the look on Spike’s face, she added, “Well, that and the one time we tried I ended up yelling because I thought she was going to kill both of us, and then she freaked and went through the red light anyway. The point is, you’ve always been really good with Dawn, and I thought you could teach her. How to drive, I mean.”

“You sure this isn’t just a way to pass the buck on to me, pet?” He smirked at her knowingly.

Buffy shook her head emphatically. “Xander already tried to teach her. It’s just his schedule and Dawn’s never seemed to match, and I think he was a little afraid that she was going to kill him too.”

“So what you’re saying is that you couldn’t think of a better way to get rid of me, so you’re going to let your little sis do the job,” he asked with a quirk of his scarred eyebrow.

“No!” She glared at him and then rolled her eyes. “You know that’s not what I mean. You just have a lot of patience with her; you always have. I figured you’d probably manage to stay calm better than anyone else.”

He smiled and laughed. “Sure, pet. Maybe when I was a vampire and didn’t need to worry so much about bodily harm. But to answer your question, yeah, I’ll teach the Bit how to drive. You want, we could swing by my old place. Left the car around there. With any luck it’ll still run, and I won’t have to worry about her doin’ damage to your Jeep.”

“Thanks, Spike,” Buffy said softly. “Dawn really will be thrilled.”

“Long as she’s happy,” he replied, twining his fingers in with hers.

“How’s the job going?” she asked.

He shrugged slightly. “You know, lots of dusty old books and ancient languages no one speaks anymore and research that probably has no meaning whatsoever.”

She grinned at him. “In other words, you’re loving it.”

Spike glanced over at her and gave a reluctant smile. “Well, yeah. We’ll see how the teaching of the freshman gits goes, but the research bit is kind of a hand in glove, believe it or not.” It was more than that, though. He’d forgotten more Greek and Latin than most of the grad students in the Classics department had ever known, due to the fact that a classical education in the late 19th century seemed to be more thorough than a Ph.D. candidate’s knowledge in the Classics department. And he liked Liz as much as his first impression suggested he would. She had a wonderful sense of humor that jumped out at him at the oddest times, and she was extremely patient.

He was also beginning to tell her things about his life, what he’d been in the past. What it had been like to be a vampire who’d almost reached the century and a half mark. What he’d been through to get his soul and his humanity, what it had taken to get back to Sunnydale. It was just bits and pieces at this point, little things he’d let drop, but she said nothing, just listened, and he knew that eventually she would hear the whole story, possibly before Buffy did. Whatever he would say, Liz would just look at him with those wise eyes of hers. She reminded him of one of his grandmothers, his father’s mother, who would do the same. Just sit there and listen and believe that he could walk on water if he wanted, even though she knew he couldn’t. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that. And while he saw flashes of it in Buffy’s eyes, he knew she still didn’t completely trust him. There were moments in time when she still looked at him as though he’d just crawled from under a rock, or when she’d pull away from him, a stony silence blocking his questions. She needed time, and he would give it to her, but it still stabbed him every time, and it always would. He loved her too damn much to be impervious.

The sight of the blackened crypt sent a ripple of emotion through him. He’d been mostly out of it when he’d come here, and hadn’t seen it since. It had been home to him for almost three years, longer than he’d stayed anywhere as a vampire. Even now, it still seemed more like home than the Summers’ house. “It’s strange to see it like this,” he commented softly.

“Yeah, home sweet crypt. Sorry that I let it get like this.” Buffy touched his arm gently and he shook his head.

“It’s fine. Wouldn’t have come back here to live anyway. Maybe it’s easier.” He looked around, reorienting himself. “This way. Car should be over here somewhere.”

The Desoto was right where he left it. Spike marveled at the irony of it. Sunnydale was a town where the murder and disappearance rate rivaled that of a much larger urban center, but no one had to worry about their car being stolen. Of course, then again, from Buffy’s general reaction to his car, he wasn’t so sure anyone would have wanted it. “Do you have the keys?” Buffy asked.

Spike shook his head and opened the door, digging around underneath the front seat. “Left ‘em in here. Wasn’t too sure I’d be back, and I really wasn’t sure I’d be able to hang on to these where I was going.”

Amazingly enough, the car started up immediately. “You want a ride home?” Spike asked with a smirk.

“In that thing?” Buffy asked incredulously. “I don’t think so.”

“Suit yourself, pet,” he replied, closing the driver’s side door, and putting it in drive.

“Wait,” Buffy called. “Fine. But I can’t believe you’re actually going to teach Dawn to drive in this thing.”

“Your idea, Slayer,” he reminded her. “If I’m teachin’ the Bit to drive, she’s going to learn in a real car.”

“Whatever.”

Cleaning the car was a chore that Spike enjoyed. It felt good to be outside, under the sun, working with his hands. He was a tactile man, someone who enjoyed the feel of things, with a natural curiosity that led him to want to know how things worked. Finding the right combination of chemicals that stripped the paint off the windows, replacing parts, working on fine-tuning the engine, felt good. Dawn, of course, was naturally inquisitive. She wanted to know exactly why Spike was working on the car now, in their driveway, and when she asked if it had anything to do with her coming birthday, he simply smiled at her.

Dawn lounged on the warm concrete, long, shorts-clad legs stretched out in front of her, watching as Spike worked under the hood. The bikini top she’d convinced Buffy to let her get allowed her tanned arms and shoulders access to the sun, and she was taking advantage of every moment. The end of the summer loomed, and soon there would be no more time for sun-bathing.

She and Spike had taken to spending more time with one another since Spike’s job didn’t keep him from home nearly as much as Buffy’s did, and Giles was spending most of his time with Anya at the Magic Box. Theirs was an easy friendship, and it seemed to be exactly what they needed at the moment. “So, are you and Buffy okay?” Dawn asked.

“Why d’you ask, Bit?” he asked and waved his hand at a wrench that lay on the driveway. “Hand me that, why don’t you?”

She passed the tool over and watched him for a few moments before replying. “I guess you guys just don’t seem as close as when you first got back, you know? I mean, Buffy would hardly leave your side.”

Spike looked back at her, his blue eyes troubled. “Don’t need her as much, I guess,” he replied. “We’re both two independent people, Bit, and sometimes that’s the way it works.”

“Even when you’re in love?” Dawn asked. “I thought when you were in love all you wanted was to be with them.”

He dove back underneath the hood, unwilling for her to see the look on his face. “When we decided to try this again, it was with the understanding that it was like a test run, see if we liked each other enough to take it on forward. Didn’t mean we’re in love.”

Dawn raised an eyebrow with a superior _expression only an almost-seventeen year old can master. “Don’t try to tell me you’re not in love with her.”

“That’s not what I said,” he replied calmly.

“So you are in love with her?” she asked.

“Always.” The silence stretched between them as Spike finished up his ministrations and slammed the hood down. He’d long since removed his shirt, and his chest and back were streaked with grease and oil. Even though Dawn had convinced him to put on some kind of sunblock, his pale skin was still slightly pink. “Let’s see how she runs.” The engine started smoothly when he turned the key and he grinned sincerely. “What do you think?”

Dawn looked at the car dubiously, not sure whether it was sort of retro-cool or a piece of junk. “Well, I guess it’s looking a lot better than it did.”

He raised an eyebrow, lips twisting in a half-grin. “And tell us what you really feel, Niblet. Probably runs a hell of a lot better than your sis’s car.” He picked up a rag and wiped off his hands, sitting down next to Dawn in the driveway.

“Is it always this way?” Dawn asked.

“Is what always what way?” he replied.

She hesitated. “Is love always this confusing and hard?”

Spike lay back on the concrete, letting the warmth soak into him like a big cat. “Nothing worth doing’s ever easy, Sweet Bit. But sometimes I suppose it’s a little less confusing.”

“I hope my love life’s not as screwed up as Buffy’s,” Dawn finally commented, adding, “No offense.”

“None taken,” he replied amiably. “For your sake, I hope it’s all roses and no thorns, luv, but that’s rare indeed.”

“Well, I figure all I have to do is figure out what Buffy did wrong and not do it.”

Spike grinned, marvelling at the simplicity of her reasoning. “Good luck on that. Let me know how it turns out for you.”

Dawn gave him a fake scowl and a punch on the arm, which only made his grin wider, and lay next to him, letting the late-afternoon sun soothe their troubles.

Spike and Dawn took Giles to the airport the following day, since Buffy had to work. There were cordial good-byes said all around, and then Dawn went off to spend some time with Janice since they were supposed to all go out that evening for her birthday. Spike decided to look Clem up and spend the afternoon catching up with the gentle demon.

Not much changed in the next couple weeks. The beginning of the school year drew ever nearer, and Spike was spending a lot of time getting ready for the classes he would be taking as well as the course he’d be teaching. He felt fairly secure in his ability to do well, but still felt the need to prove himself. Dawn was enjoying her birthday present. Her driving skills were coming along rather nicely, and he filled what free time he had with teaching her, especially since he wasn’t spending nearly enough time with Buffy.

Buffy kept avoiding him. She’d switched her hours for two weeks in a row so she was working evenings instead of days, and she’d come home, change and be out the door patrolling before he could even ask her if she wanted company. When he tried to talk to her, she went on about inconsequential things, and she avoided spending more than an hour in his company. It wasn’t helping their relationship. Spike was patient however. He figured she’d come around eventually, and he was ready to wait her out.

About two weeks after Giles had left, he came home from the university around 7 or so, having spent most of the day with Liz doing research on a ritual unfamiliar to the both of them. Neither Dawn nor Buffy were home when he got there, which didn’t surprise him too much. The Bit had left a note telling him that she was going out with some of her friends and not to expect her until curfew, which was 11. Buffy was still at work, and she’d left a message on the machine telling him that she was going straight out to patrol after work and not to expect her until late.

Spike sighed and grabbed the makings for a sandwhich out of the fridge, deciding that it would be easier and less expensive than ordering out. Gone were the days where you could order a pizza and eat the delivery boy, and thereby avoid paying for the meal. There were times when he really did miss being evil.

He worked on some translations while he ate his sandwhich. When the clock struck 11 and neither of his girls were home, he started to get a little worried. When midnight came and went and he still hadn’t heard from them, he got really concerned. The knock on the door came at about quarter after midnight.

Dawn was on the porch being supported by Janice and a boy Spike vaguely remembered seeing at the Bronze. “What the bloody hell happened?” he growled, quickly taking Dawn’s weight from them. She was clearly out of it, not quite unconscious, but not really aware of what was going on either.

Janice eyed him nervously. “I don’t know. She started acting kind of funny all of a sudden. Mike thought maybe somebody slipped her something.”

Spike looked over at Mike, the glint in his eyes making the younger man take a step back. “What makes you think that?”

“I’ve heard rumors,” he said shrugging. “I didn’t think they were true, but…” he trailed off, seeing the look on Spike’s face. “We should go. My parents are gonna be worried.”

“You do that,” Spike replied. He got Dawn inside and locked the door before he picked her up in a fireman’s carry. She wasn’t too heavy for him, but she was almost as tall as he was, and it made things easier. He lay her down on the bed and pulled off her shoes, covering her with a blanket.

He went downstairs to wait for Buffy to come home. Spike didn’t have to wait too long. Buffy walked through the door about twenty minutes after he’d put Dawn to bed. She saw him as she came through the door, and her surprise showed on her face. “Spike? I thought you would have already been in bed.”

“Yeah, you’d have thought.” He hesitated, and then replied. “I was waiting for Dawn to come home.”

“Dawn’s not home yet? Her curfew is 11.”

Spike shook his head. “No, she got back about twenty minutes ago, but somebody slipped her something in her drink and she was pretty much out of it.”

Buffy started up the stairs immediately. “Is she okay?”

Spike followed her. “She’s fine. I checked her pulse and it’s steady, and her breathing is still strong. She’ll be alright just as soon as she sleeps it off.” He watched as Buffy went into her sister’s room and did exactly what he’d just told her he’d done.

She heaved a sigh of relief. “I think she’s going to be fine.” Buffy paused. “Wait a minute. She still came home an hour after curfew.”

“I’m fully aware of that, pet,” he replied. “However, Dawn happens to be unconscious right now. That might be something you want to talk with her about in the morning.”

Buffy put a hand up to her head. “You’re right. Fine. I guess we’ll talk in the morning.” She left the room and he followed her out.

“Buffy, I think we need to talk, though.” He laid a gentle hand on her arm. He was seriously tired of being shut out, and he wanted something to change. Something had to break before he did.

She looked over at him in surprise. “Sure, Spike. But can it wait? It’s pretty late.”

He hesitated. It was late, but he was fairly certain that she was going to keep putting this off. “Yeah, pet. Sorry, wasn’t thinking. You’re right, tomorrow maybe.”

“Okay, sure. I’ll see you in the morning.” He watched as she disappeared into her room and sighed. Well, that went well.

Spike decided to wait for a better moment to tell her they needed to talk. The morning was tense, with Buffy declaring Dawn grounded for the next two weeks. Dawn, of course, protested, saying it was utterly ridiculous that she would even have a curfew, especially when it wasn’t a school night. Buffy replied that that was just too bad, but she’d had one and blown it and now she’d just have to deal with the consequences. It was about at that moment that they both looked at Spike to referee and he left the room.

Then he waited until after Buffy and he both got home from work, but she didn’t seem like she was in that great of a mood. So he decided to wait until after they got done patrolling, when Buffy’s outlook had been improved by a little violence. After staking a few vampires and killing a Fyarl demon, she seemed to be a bit happier, so he broached the subject again as they walked home. “Buffy, I really think we need to talk.”

“Spike, I’m not in the mood for more drama tonight,” she replied. “I’ve had more than enough from Dawn today.”

He hesitated, not sure that he should say anything, but not wanting to wait any longer. “I understand that, but we do need to talk. You’ve barely said two sentences to me since Giles left. I figure if we were still shaggin’ we’d be back to the whole do it one night, avoid me the next. Except that since we’re not doin’ it, you’re avoidin’ me every night.”

His tone was possibly more harsh than he’d intended, but it got her attention. “Look, Spike. I know we haven’t been seeing a lot of each other recently, but we’ve both been busy.”

“You’ve been avoidin’ me,” he disagreed.

“Fine, whatever.” She gave him an exasperated look. “I really don’t want to talk about this now.”

“Then when?” he demanded.

“How about never?” she suggested. “I just need some space, Spike.”

He bit his tongue. He’d told himself that he was going to let Buffy call the shots, and that meant the ones he didn’t like, as well as the ones he did. “Right. Space. I understand, Slayer. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Buffy looked as though she were about to say something and then changed her mind as they approached the house. They entered in silence and he followed her up the stairs. She hesitated outside her bedroom door. “Good night,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, ‘night, Slayer,” he murmured as she closed the door.

“Hey, Buf,” Xander said as he came in the kitchen.

She looked over at him, smiling. “Hey, Xander. What’s up?”

Her friend looked in her eyes, concern evident on his face and in his voice. “Is there something going on, Buffy?”

She frowned, a confused look coming over her face. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

Xander hesitated, his brown eyes regarding her compassionately. “Spike called me the other night and asked if he could stay on my couch until he found his own place. I just wanted to make sure nothing had happened between you two.” At the look Buffy gave him, he leaned back slightly. “I take it this isn’t something the two of you had discussed.”

“What do you mean he asked you if he could stay on your couch? He’s moving out?” Buffy stared at him, not quite comprehending.

“That was the impression I got,” Xander waited for her to say something, but she was looking as though someone had just hit her over the head.

“I’m going to kick his ass,” she declared. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.”

“Buffy,” Xander said, putting a cautioning hand on her arm. “As much in favor as I might be of kicking Spike’s ass, the fact remains that this is probably something that can’t be worked out by beating on him. I may be wrong, but he obviously feels that something isn’t right.” When she didn’t reply, he continued. “I’m not the biggest fan of Spike, but you were right the other night about him changing, and I don’t think he wants to hurt you, so he’s got to have his reasons.”

“Maybe,” Buffy acknowledged, remembering what he’d said a couple nights previous. “But he didn’t tell me he was leaving, Xander. Just like every other man I seem to end up with.”

“Even so, Buffy, he’s the first guy that you threatened to pick over us, your friends.” Xander looked at her with a small smile. “That says a lot about how you feel, whether you realize it or not. You might want to think about that.” He gave her a sideways hug. “I’ve gotta run. I just thought you should know about the situation.”

“Thanks, Xander,” she murmured, watching him leave. The question was, now that she knew about it, what was she going to do?

Spike came home to find Buffy waiting for him, much as he had waited for her the other night. “Hey,” she greeted him.

“Hi.” He hesitated, and then headed for the stairs.

“Spike, wait. Can we talk?”

He paused and turned. “I thought you said you didn’t want to talk, luv.”

Buffy looked away. “Xander came by today. He said you were moving out.”

“Well, you said you needed your space, so I thought I’d give it to you.” He had that familiar smirk on his face, the one she’d since realized was designed to hide his pain by making her think of her own.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she replied. “I didn’t want you to leave.”

“Sorry, but that’s not what I heard. So I’ll just be packin’ up my stuff and movin’ on, if you don’t mind, because you very obviously don’t need me around.” He turned and began to climb the stairs.

“Don’t walk away from me,” she called out after him. He didn’t even turn around. “William—”

It was possibly the only thing she could have said to make him stop, and when he turned he could see the tears in her eyes. Immediately, he understood. Her demand that he not walk away wasn’t in reference to their argument, it was about their relationship. She didn’t want him to walk away from her. “Buffy, I can’t do this again. I’m sorry, I bloody well wish I were strong enough to give you what you seem to want, but I can’t be this close to you and have you ignoring me. It hurts too much.”

“Please don’t leave,” she whispered. “I know this has been rough, but please don’t leave.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I can stay.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Spike froze. Had she ever apologized to him before? Possibly right after she’d told him it was over; that little scene was pretty much a blur after she’d made her announcement. Now she was telling him she was sorry for an entirely different reason, and those two little words almost made him believe that they might be able to make this work. “Why’d you shut me out like that then?”

She wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. “It’s just, Giles left again, you know? And I knew he was only here for a visit, and he was going to leave, but it was nice to have him back.”

A light went on inside Spike’s brain. Normally, he was incredibly perceptive where Buffy and her friends were concerned, but his feelings were all wrapped up in this and he’d lost perspective. She was worried about losing someone all over again, and why not? Everybody else had walked out on her at least once, including himself. It was no wonder she’d shut down. And he, the bloody wanker, was going to add yet another stroke to the tally. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, Buffy.”

“Yeah, and you were just playing around, telling Xander you were getting your own place.” She glared at him, angry now.

He cocked his head. “You said you wanted space. I was giving it to you. I’m not planning on leaving Sunnydale, luv. You’d have been able to find me.”

“I don’t want you to go,” she replied.

He stared at her. “Buffy, do you really think I could?” he asked. “I’d never have come back to good ol’ Sunnyhell if I thought I even had a prayer of getting you out from under my skin. You’re stuck with me, pet.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” she whispered. “I was so angry, I just wanted to hurt someone, and I knew it would be you, so I didn’t say anything.”

He moved closer so he could look into her eyes. “Next time, luv, do me a favor and say so. ‘Spike, I’m feeling a bit pissed right now, so unless you want to be my punching bag, go away.’ That wouldn’t be so hard, would it?”

She smiled. “Spike, I’m a bit pissed right now, so unless you want to be my punching bag, go away.” She paused and lifted an eyebrow. “It didn’t work.”

“Was it supposed to?” he asked, smirking.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “You don’t seem to be moving.” She looked up into those blue eyes of his that she could just get lost in. “I can’t lose you. But sometimes I don’t know what this takes, you know? I seem to really suck at relationships.”

“I’m no different than your friends, Buffy,” he reminded her. “It takes the same kind of effort with me that it does with them, and you seem to have done fine on that front.”

“You make it sound so easy,” she replied. She laid her head against his chest. “Why do you stick around, Spike? Anybody else would’ve bailed by now.”

“I’m not the leaving kind, luv.” He lay a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Come on, then.”

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Out,” he replied firmly. “I got paid last week, in case you didn’t remember. We’ll paint the town, pet.”

Chapter 8: Being Real

“Hey, don’t write yourself off yet/it’s only in your head you feel left out or looked down on/just try your best/try everything you can/and don’t you worry what they tell themselves when you’re away/hey, you know they’re all the same/you know you’re doing better on your own so don’t buy in/live right now/just be yourself/it doesn’t matter if that’s good enough for someone else/it just takes some time/little girl, you’re in the middle of the ride/everything will be just fine/everything will be all right.” ~ Jimmy Eat World

They hadn’t actually painted the town. Spike promised what he called a “real date” after he’d had a little more time to prepare. Just going to a movie and then for coffee later had been fun though; it gave them a chance to feel one another out again. Buffy realized that with them it could end up being two steps forward and one step back for a long time. Only the fact that Spike was the most persistant person on the planet had kept him in Sunnydale, and she was certainly beginning to appreciate that.

Tonight was the promised “real date,” and Buffy found herself standing outside what looked to be a little hole-in-the-wall along the lines of Willy’s bar. She kept her mouth shut and her face carefully blank as he opened the door for her, even though she could tell by the amused look in his eyes that he was probably reading her mind. The inside of the restaurant was something else altogether, and she turned to face him. “How did you find out about this place?” she asked.

“A little bird told me about it,” he said with a smirk. “William Benton,” he said to the maitre’d waiting to seat them. The place was quietly elegant with old wood floors and panelled walls, and the tables were set with linen cloths and white china, candles glowing in the middle of each. The man led them back to a table in the corner, and Spike pulled Buffy’s chair out for her.

“You know, I could get used to this,” Buffy murmured quietly. “Seriously, though, how did you know about this place? It looks like a hole from the outside.”

“Just goes to show that you can’t judge things from the outside.” He was smiling, but his blue eyes were completely serious.

She met his gaze with her own. “I guess it does.” She might have said more, but they were interrupted by a thin, dark man with a moustache.

“Mr. Spike? I thought it might be you! How good to see you again!” Buffy looked from the small man to Spike in surprise. Spike was actually turning a little pink.

“Nice to be seen, Pierre,” he replied. “You don’t think I could stay away from your cooking for that long, did you?”

“My cooking?” Pierre asked, with a sly look at Buffy. “I do not think it was my food that brought you back to this place. But you must let me cook for you and your friend tonight, no? It is on the house.”

Spike shook his head. “No, I couldn’t—”

“But you can,” Pierre replied firmly. “Our deal still stands. Whatever you did, my customers remain unmolested, and business is good. I still owe you a few meals for such a service.”

He scurried off before Spike could continue to argue with him, and Buffy watched him, amazed. “You have to tell me what that was about,” she insisted.

Spike shrugged, slightly embarrassed. “Well, I heard about the food here and thought I’d see what all the noise was about, right? Anyway, I found out business wasn’t so good because the local vamps would wait for his well-fed customers to exit and then grab dessert for themselves. So, I offered him a deal. I got fed with a good meal twice a month, and his customers don’t get eaten. Didn’t take more than a word on the street and a few piles of dust to make my point. Thought about bringing you here sometime, but it didn’t work out.”

“How long ago was this?” she asked.

“Not long after you came back,” he replied, hesitation in his voice. “Found myself a bit more at loose ends and wanted something to do. And it’s some of the best food I’ve ever had.”

He wasn’t lying. The food was incredible. No one she’d dated had ever done something like this for her. She and Angel had mostly snuck around and slayed, and Riley had been more of a picnic in the park kind of guy. But Spike seemed intent upon wooing her, and she was willing to let him.

They talked about mundane things, like the beginning of school the next week, and Dawn and her friends, and all the other little things that made up everyday life as they worked their way through the various courses. Afterwards, Buffy feeling full and sleepy, they walked back towards her house by way of a few cemetaries to make sure there weren’t any fledglings begging to be staked. “And for the second dessert, a little after dinner slayage,” Buffy said facetiously. “Is that anything like after-dinner mints?”

Spike pretended to give it serious consideration. “Don’t think so, luv. Can’t put this in those little bowls, unless you count vamp dust.”

“I’m not sure you could market that,” she replied. “Let’s sit. I’m too full to walk.”

Obligingly, he waited until she’d sat down on the grass, her back against one of the tombstones before sprawling down beside her. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, looking up at the stars. “Spike?”

“Yeah, luv.”

“Tell me about yourself.”

He gave her an amused look. “You already know everything there is to know about me, Buffy.”

“I know a lot about Spike,” she replied. “I don’t know anything about William.”

He snorted. “William was a ponce. Nuff said.”

“I see him in you,” she said with a smile. Her eyes sparkled as he fixed her with a glare. “And before you accuse me of insulting you, I see things about you now that I never did before. But even before you came back, there were times you’d look at me, and I would never have believed that you were the same Spike who tried to kill me. Or you’d touch me, and I could see something better in you.” She reached over to take his hand. “If any of that was William, then he was worth knowing.”

When had he been able to refuse her anything? He told her slowly, warming up to his story, the real one this time. He’d had a father, a mother, and a sister, and he’d been a student, a son, and a brother. William had been a sorry prat, and there was no way Buffy would have looked twice at him if they’d met as humans. He was beneath her notice in any number of ways, but still he told her the bare, unvarnished truth as some part of him waited for her laughter. It never came.

“What happened to them after you—met Drusilla?” she asked, unable to say it any other way.

“After I got turned?” he asked, amused that she couldn’t actually say it. “Well, my dad and lil’ sis had already passed on at that point. It was just me and mum.” Spike fell silent.

“Go on.”

He looked over at her. “I’m not sure you want to hear this part, pet.”

“I know what Angel did to his family,” Buffy replied steadily. “I doubt you could shock me.”

“It felt so good,” he said quietly. “To be that strong, and to know I’d be young forever, when all I’d ever been was weak. I wanted to share it.”

“You turned her,” Buffy whispered.

“Yeah, and then I killed her,” he replied. “When she rose, she wasn’t my mother anymore. And to see her like that… I never wanted it to be that way. I thought she’d still be my mum.” Spike shook his head to rid himself of the memories. “They would never have let me keep her around anyway. Angelus was mad enough that Dru had sired me; they weren’t looking for another fledgling.”

Buffy could see the pain in his eyes, even after so many years had passed, and she understood. She reached out to where he lay with her free hand and stroked his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Spike swallowed. He had not expected her sympathy. There were times that he still expected to wake and find that this was all a dream, that he was still in Africa, or in some urban jungle, trying to get back to her, or that he was still a vampire, laying in his crypt, and this was only one long, sad daydream. And Buffy wouldn’t be his, and she would tell him again that she never would be. He was still surprised that she hadn’t just let him go. He’d expected her to let him leave, to let whatever hung between them die of starvation until they were just two people who’d known each other once upon a time. Instead, she sat next to him, looking at him as though she would wipe away every bad memory until all that was left was her. And it would always be her. She was his world.

He pulled her to him gently, giving her plenty of opportunity to refuse, but she met his lips willingly. It was gentle and sweet and demanding and full of hope. It was everything he’d ever wanted and nothing he’d believed he could have. “I love you,” he whispered. And while she said nothing in return, the renewed hunger in her kiss told him everything he needed to know. For now.

“I still don’t see why I can’t get my own car,” Dawn said, a bit of a pout on her lips as she sat in the passenger seat of Spike’s Desoto.

He sighed. They’d been over this at least a half dozen times. Apparently, she thought if she brought it up often enough, he’d just give in. Truth be known, he’d love to buy the Niblet a car, but he and Buffy didn’t have the money. Even with the extra he was bringing in and the money their dad was sending, there wasn’t enough to afford another car, what with the extra insurance and gas and everything else. Not to mention that the Jeep had seen better days, and if new cars were to be had, that one needed to be replaced first. “When you can buy the car and the insurance, you’re welcome to get one, Bit,” he said patiently.

“All my friends have cars,” she pointed out.

Spike pulled up in front of the school and just managed to keep from saying, “And if all your friends jumped into the Hellmouth, would you?” It would only aggravate the situation. Both he and Buffy knew that most of the problem was that the kids she was running with at the moment required a lot when it came to fitting in. Apparently, being popular was hard work, and required copious amounts of spending on clothes, shoes, hair, and the like. Spike had never thought Dawn behind on the times, but she felt she was, and she’d been bugging her sister for more money for clothes, among other things. Buffy, needless to say, was less than thrilled with the situation, especially after that little incident at the Bronze and missing curfew, but there were some things that you just couldn’t control. Even when you were the Slayer and especially when you really wanted someone you knew to have a shot at a normal life.

And, while Buffy did what she could, and Spike would have done anything within his power for Dawn, they were both getting just a little bit tired of hearing, “But all my friends…” Spike had every reason to hope that this was just a stage Dawn was going through, and in time she’d figure herself out, but until then she was going to drive both of them nuts. “Have a good day, Niblet,” was all he said, and he watched as she got out and flounced away. He sighed. Teenagers.

Dawn wasn’t surprised when Janice came to meet her on the steps, but Marcy’s presence, the current self-titled queen of Sunnydale High, was a shocker. “Who was that guy?” the girl demanded, flipping her long, blonde hair expertly.

She hesitated, and then replied truthfully, “That’s Spike. He’s kind of a friend of the family.”

“Well, he’s gorgeous,” Marcy replied, looking in the direction that his car had gone as if she could still see it. Dawn resisted the urge to laugh in her face. Spike wouldn’t have bitten her when he was an evil vampire. As a college grad student, he wouldn’t give her the time of day. She bit back her snide remark, though. If Marcy was actually talking to her, she might have a chance with the popular crowd.

“Yeah, well, he’s really sweet too,” she offered.

Janice looked at her in appreciation. “It’s so cool that he’s living with you.”

Marcy’s dark eyes sharpened. “He’s living with you?”

“Well, he and my sister are going out and he’s helping out with some bills.” Dawn realized that it was slipping. She absolutely hated bringing her sister into the conversation. Everyone seemed to know that there was something strange about her.

“That’s nice,” Marcy said absently, and then sauntered off, leaving Dawn behind. She sighed. This school year was just going to be great.

Being popular took more effort than Dawn had ever thought it would. Clothes, hair, makeup, everything had to be perfect when you walked out the door, because if it wasn’t you knew that every girl around was going to be picking you apart all day. It was a competition for limited resources, a battle for the goods. There were only a few spaces at the top of the food chain, and Dawn understood the law of supply and demand as well as the next average high school student. The demand for the top space was high, which meant competition was fierce, and the gloves usually came off by second period. She played the game as best she could, and convinced herself that it was just part of life, nothing personal.

At least, it wasn’t personal until Simon asked her for the history notes from the day he’d missed.

Simon was an enigma. His dress was somewhere between punk and preppie, usually with the lastest in jeans or khakis and a t-shirt advertising an underground band. The most distinctive thing about him was his hair: spiky tow blonde with an overlay of blue. He was one of those kids who had a lot of friends, but there weren’t a lot of people who knew him well. A favorite with the teachers, he was a good student and was well-known for his quick wit. Everyone knew that he was one of the best guitar players in Sunnydale, but he didn’t play with anyone regularly, filling in on occasion for any one of the local bands. About the only thing you could say for sure about Simon was that he hated, and was hated by, the popular crowd. They didn’t like one thing about him, from the way he dressed, to his blue hair, to the way he seemed above all the petty jockeying for position, and it was policy not to give him the time of day. Dawn didn’t always follow policy; it seemed to be a family trait.

“Hey, Dawn, do you have notes from yesterday’s class?” he asked as he approached her locker. “I know the test is Friday, but if I could borrow them for a day or so, I’ll make copies and give them back.” He smiled at her as he leaned casually against the locker next to hers.

Dawn smiled back. She liked Simon, and thought he was cute. “Sure, no biggie.” Quickly fishing through her folder, she handed them over. “I probably won’t start studying till tomorrow anyway.”

“Cool, thanks,” he replied, smiling warmly. “I promise you’ll have these back by tomorrow lunch. I’ll see you around.”

Dawn watched as he left and didn’t think anything of it until Marcy approached her later in the day. “I heard you were talking to Simon Yeager earlier. Was he actually flirting with you?”

Dawn frowned at her slightly. “No, he was just asking for history notes. Not a big deal.”

Marcy shook her head. “Dawn, you have to learn. There are some people you just don’t talk to if you want to keep your social life. Simon is one of them.”

Dawn’s frown deepened as she started to get angry. “Are you saying you won’t be my friend if I lend someone my history notes?”

“I’m saying that you’ll never be popular if you talk to people like Simon. They’re nobodies, Dawn,” Marcy explained patiently.

Anger blossomed. Buffy had been on her case lately, and maybe for a reason, but still she was tired of people trying to tell her what to do all the time. She might take it from her sister, but there was no way she was going to take it from some high school bitch like Marcy. “So I’m a nobody if I associate with ‘people like that?’ If that’s the case, maybe I don’t want to be somebody at all. I don’t need help picking out my friends.”

Marcy’s eyes glinted, realizing a challenge when she heard it. “And maybe you don’t want to be a part of our crowd anymore.”

“Maybe I don’t,” Dawn replied, drawing herself up to her full height. “In fact, I know I don’t.” And she walked off. It was a good exit, as exits go, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t stuck walking home after getting rides from friends all week.

“Thanks for picking me up, Spike,” she said, sliding into the passenger side. She’d called him at his office at work, and he’d agreed to pick her up. She didn’t want anyone to see her walking. Her humiliation would definitely be complete.

“Anytime, Bit,” he said. “You know that. What happened? Thought you usually rode with friends.”

“I do,” she said, “but I don’t think anybody was feeling very friend-like today.”

He stayed silent, figuring that if she wanted to talk about it she would after a while. “I kind of told Marcy off today,” she confessed.

“I’m assumin’ no blows were exchanged since we didn’t get a call from the principal,” he said.

She shrugged. “No, but there might as well have been. I pretty much can kiss my social life good-bye.”

“What’d you say that was so bad?”

“There’s this guy, and he said he wanted some notes from me, but he’s someone no one in the popular crowd likes, so she said I couldn’t talk to him. I told her she couldn’t tell me what to do.” Dawn remembered the look on Marcy’s face just before she walked off. There would be payback, of course, but it was almost worth it to see her that shocked.

“Good on you, Bit,” he replied smiling. “That lot’s all the same world over. They try to play top dog and they get taken down. Don’t feel bad about it.”

“I don’t, except that I kind of wanted it, you know? I wanted to be special.” Dawn looked out the window of the car, and Spike reached over to tug on her hair affectionately.

“You are special, Dawn. So tell them to sod off and get over themselves. You’ll feel better.”

Dawn shook her head. She didn’t really believe him, but she’d pretty much already done that, which meant she’d just have to make the best of a bad situation. “Maybe.” But maybe not, that little voice inside her head told her. Maybe she’d end up being on the outside all through high school, only without her own band of Scoobies for support. Maybe she’d end up alone.

The beginning of Spike’s school year was a bit less traumatic. Buffy had insisted on taking him shopping the Monday night before his first class. He had to admit that it was kind of fun. Surprisingly enough, to him at least, she had fairly decent taste in clothes, and he’d only had to veto one or two of her choices. That next morning had found him dressed in khaki pants and a dark blue button down shirt. “You look good,” Buffy complimented him when he came into the kitchen.

“Thanks, luv,” he replied, running his hands down the front of his shirt. “Not sure I’m ready for this.”

She came over and pulled his head down for a long, breathless kiss. “You’re going to do great, Professor,” she said with a smile.

“If you say so.”

“I do.” Buffy reached up to smooth a stray lock of hair. “You do need a haircut, though. I think that should be next on your list.” He leaned in to kiss her again when he heard a very loud “ahem” behind him.

“I’m going to be late,” Dawn said impatiently.

Spike and Buffy shared a conspiratorial look, and then he kissed her again, a quick peck. “Good luck,” she called after both of them.

He hung onto that moment through the next hour and a half as he got ready for his class. “How are you, William?” Liz asked, popping her head into his closet of an office.

“Just peachy,” he replied, smiling.

“Nervous?” she asked sympathetically.

“Of course not,” he denied. “Why would I be nervous? I’ve faced three Slayers in my lifetime and beat two of them. I’ve saved the world, or at least helped, twice. Teaching a class full of freshman gits shouldn’t scare me at all.”

Liz raised an eyebrow at that. “Of course not. My advice? Don’t let them know you’re scared, and you’ll be fine.” She smiled at him. “Seriously, though, if I didn’t think you could handle this you wouldn’t be here. You’ll do great.”

“Thanks,” he said gratefully. “For everything.”

“You’re very welcome. Give ‘em hell, Professor,” she said, leaving Spike to wonder if she’d been talking to Buffy.

Fifteen minutes later, he was watching students walk into the large lecture hall where he was supposed to be teaching. Much to his surprise, the seats began to fill rapidly. Even more to his surprise, he saw Willow slip in the door and sit down off to the side in the second row. A quick look at the roster showed that she wasn’t signed up for the class, which meant she was there for moral support. While touched, he wasn’t sure he wanted anyone he actually knew there. That way if he screwed this up royally, no one would ever have to find out exact details. “Welcome to Greek Mythology 101,” he began. “My name is William Benton, Dr. Kearns’ graduate assistant, and I’ll be teaching the class this semester.”

When it was all over, all Spike could feel was immense relief that he’d made it through the class and that no one had asked a question he couldn’t answer. He busied himself picking up his notes and shoving them into his book bag. Buffy had finally convinced him to get one after watching him struggle with a pile of books one morning. She’d teased him by telling him that they could get a manly pack, one that enhanced his “Big Bad” image. It made him smile to think of it. It made him smile to think of her.

“Hey, you did good.” The hand on his arm made him turn to look into Willow’s dark eyes.

“Thanks, Red.” He smiled in appreciation. “It was nice to see a friendly face out there.”

“I thought it might help,” she replied. “I was even mildly fascinated, which is quite a feat for an introductory lecture.”

His smile grew into a smirk. “That right?”

“Yes, but don’t go getting overconfident or I’ll have to come back and ask you something incredibly obscure.” She tugged on his arm. “Come on, let’s go to the Grotto, get a celebratory drink or something.”

Spike smiled and felt a warmth spread through him. It was nice to realize that he was beginning to be friends with others apart from Buffy. He hesitated ever so slightly as he saw Liz in the doorway. “Sure, Red, but d’you mind if Liz comes with us?” As he introduced the two of them, he noticed that they were clicking immediately, and he realized that the two halves of his life were beginning to come together. For the first time in a long time he realized that he had a chance at making a future work, not just with Buffy, but with a career and friends and everything else that made a person tick. And suddenly he was just plain happy.

Dawn had been miserable all morning. Even Janice was ignoring her, and everyone was whispering behind their hands as she walked down the hallway. They all had heard about what she’d said to Marcy yesterday, and while some of the looks she’d caught were admiring, no one went out of their way to talk to her. In fact, no one talked to her at all. When lunchtime rolled around, she went outside to eat, deciding that her best option was to try to get her homework done so she could hang out with the gang. There was supposed to be a Scooby meeting tonight, though there really wasn’t anything too serious to discuss. It was more a chance to get together and eat pizza. Still, if she had her homework done, Buffy couldn’t bug her about it, and she wouldn’t feel quite so lonely. At least, that was the plan.

“Hey.” Dawn looked up to see Simon standing next to her, history notes in hand. “I wanted to give these back to you. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, taking the notes from him and going back to the text book in front of her.

She knew he was still standing there, and he finally spoke. “I heard what you said to Marcy yesterday. Thanks for that.”

Dawn looked up at him. “I didn’t do it for you,” she said honestly. “I get enough people telling me what to do when I’m at home. I don’t need it at school too.”

He gave her a sympathetic smile, sitting down next to her on the bench, his back to the table. “Your folks giving you a hard time?”

“Not my parents,” she corrected him. “My sister mostly, and it’s just because she worries. It just bugs me sometimes.”

“No parents?” he asked, but before she could reply, he got a stricken look on his face. “Wait, I remember now. Your mom passed away a couple years ago, right? I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

“It’s okay,” Dawn told him, seeing that he was really apologetic about bringing it up. “Well, it’s not okay, but it is. You know?”

He looked at her. “Yeah, I do.” Simon hesitated and then said, “I always thought you were way too good to be running with that crowd. In fact, I was wondering if you wanted to get together sometime.”

“Like on a date?” Dawn asked. Most guys avoided asking her out, she thought because of her sister. There were enough rumors to chase off a lot of guys.

“Well, maybe like on a practice date,” he suggested. “We’ve got that history test on Friday, and we could study after school or something. And then if everything goes well maybe you’ll go out with me on Saturday night?”

Dawn was charmed. He was sitting there, looking at her with these vulnerable blue eyes. He was cute and smart and suddenly being popular wasn’t nearly as appealing. “I think I could go for that,” she replied.

He grinned, one dimple appearing rakishly in his right cheek. “Great. I’ll meet you at your locker after last period. Keep your chin up,” he said, reaching out and touching her arm in a friendly way, and then disappearing into the crowd of students.

Dawn was just getting her books out of her locker and into her pack when Janice and Marcy showed up at her locker. From the looks they were giving her, she had a feeling that the conversation could get interesting. “You know, Dawn,” Janice began, her voice an odd mixture of condescension and nervousness, “we were a little hard on you yesterday. I thought maybe Marcy was too quick to judge. You have to realize we were only warning you because we’re your friends and we were concerned.”

Dawn really couldn’t believe what she was hearing. If they were really her friends it shouldn’t matter that she loaned her history notes to Simon. Friends were the people who forgave you after you did really horrible things, like trying to destroy the world. And they were the people you forgave when they hurt you. And yet, part of her wanted to let it go, just be one of the group. At just that moment, Simon came up to her locker. “Ready to go, Dawn?” he asked cheerfully.

There are points in life when the decision you make can change everything, and if you’re lucky you recognize those moments and make the right decision. Dawn knew exactly what her choices were, and she knew whatever choice she made would pretty much determine how she spent the rest of her high school years. She could completely blow Simon off, cut him down in front of Marcy and Janice, and she’d be in completely. In fact, if she played her cards right, she might be in the top spot her senior year. Or, she could tell Simon that yes, she was ready to go, and everyone in the school would think they were dating by this time next day. Which would mean her chances of becoming popular were over.

“I told you guys yesterday,” Dawn said quietly and with great dignity. “I don’t need help picking out my friends. And you guys never were my friends. If you were, you wouldn’t have blown me off just for loaning somebody my notes.” She paused and remembered what Spike had told her over the summer. “So you can both just sod off.” Zipping up her pack in one smooth motion, she turned to Simon, who was standing there with a very impressed and very smug look on his face. “Let’s go.”

“So you live with your sister?” Simon asked as Dawn unlocked the door to let herself in.

“Yeah, and Spike,” Dawn replied, leading the way into the kitchen. At his look, she smiled, realizing he had no idea who “Spike” was. “Spike is Buffy’s boyfriend. He was out of the country for a year or so and didn’t have a place to go when he came back, so he stayed with us. And he’s helping out with some bills and stuff.”

“They were going out when he was gone too?” Simon asked, taking a soda from Dawn as she pulled a couple from the fridge.

Dawn pulled a face. “No. It was a really bad breakup, and he left unexpectedly, but they missed each other a lot and decided to try again when he came back.” She rolled her eyes slightly. “It’s sort of complicated. Story of my life.”

He smiled. “I hear you. Must be weird, living with the Slayer anyway.”

Dawn gaped at him. She’d been trying to make everything seem as normal as possible; she’d been trying to gloss over all the weirdness that was her life. And she had been worrying about how not to let on that Buffy was the Slayer when he told her he already knew. “How?”

Simon grinned. “Hey, I’ve been to the Bronze, remember? The Bronze that has real vampires on a regular basis? I’ve even seen your sister in action a couple times while I was playing there. I’ve lived in Sunnydale my whole life, Dawn. Figure you can either turn a blind eye and hope nothing makes you admit the whacked stuff that goes on behind the scenes or see it for what it is. I’ve never been one for lying to myself.”

She sighed and sat down across from him. “What exactly do you know?”

“Just pretty much what I’ve told you. And there were rumors flying around after the old high school got blown.” He shrugged casually. “There’re all kinds of rumors about Buffy, but one of the guys I play with sometimes graduated with her. I’ve heard some of the stories, like about the Mayor and all. I found out who she was by accident when I overheard some guys talking to her in the Bronze last year. They called her the Slayer, and I guessed it was just putting a name to a face.” Simon grinned. “So you can stop dancing around stuff for my sake.”

Dawn looked at him sourly. “It was that obvious, huh?”

“Only to someone who knew you were trying to hide something,” he replied, smiling.

She might have replied to that, but the front door opened and she could hear Spike calling her. “Niblet? You home yet?”

“We’re in the kitchen,” she called back. Turning to Simon, she warned, “He can be kind of scary, but he’s pretty much a softy.”

Just then Spike walked into the kitchen. He didn’t even blink an eye at seeing Simon sitting at the island with Dawn. “What are you two up to?” he asked mildly.

“Spike, this is Simon. We’re studying for a history test we have on Friday.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that right? Well, good on you for not waiting till last minute then. You do know Xander and Willow’ll be over tonight?”

“Um, yeah. Is Xander bringing his date?” Dawn replied.

Spike shook his head. “No, she was up to something else.” He pulled out his wallet and laid two twenty dollar bills down on the counter. “Buffy and I are going to be training this afternoon. You’ll call the pizza place?” When Dawn nodded, he looked at Simon with a lopsided smile. “You’re welcome to eat with us if you like,” he said.

Simon nodded. “Thanks. That sounds good.”

“Good. Best change then.” Spike headed out of the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder. “We’ll have to have a little chat later.”

Simon looked over at her. “I didn’t think he was that scary.”

“We’ll see,” Dawn said, knowing how Spike could be, especially if you didn’t know he was mostly all talk.

They were busy studying a couple hours later when Buffy got home. “Hey, Dawn,” she greeted her sister. “Do you know where Spike is?”

“He’s downstairs. I think he said something about training,” Dawn replied.

Buffy seemed to realize Simon was there for the first time. “Hi. I’m Buffy, Dawn’s sister.”

“Hey,” he replied, standing up to shake her hand. “I’m Simon.”

She smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you. I should go see how Spike is doing though. Dawn, you’ll call for the pizza in about an hour?”

Dawn rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Good,” she said, and then as she was leaving the kitchen, she called back. “Simon, if you want to stay for dinner, you can.”

His face split in a grin. “Thanks.” He shook his head. “Is it always like that around here?”

“Usually.” Dawn made a face, and then grinned. “When they aren’t agreeing about everything, they’re usually fighting.”

There were sounds coming from the basement that might have been a little scary if Simon hadn’t known he was in an unusual household. About fifteen minutes after Dawn called for the pizza both Buffy and Spike came up the stairs, arguing about something. “That was a completely dirty move, Spike,” Buffy protested.

Spike had a smirk on his lips that made him look like a cat who’d just eaten the canary. “You’re only saying that because you didn’t expect it. Next week, you’ll be using that same move and telling everybody you’re the one who came up with it.”

“That is so not true!” Buffy replied heatedly, though when he stopped and looked at her, amusement written all over his features, she backed up a little. “Fine. But you have to teach me.”

“Why else do you think I came up with it except to keep you alive, Slayer?” he asked, smiling, both of them seeming to have forgotten that both Dawn and Simon were in the room.

Dawn cleared her throat loudly, and both Spike and Buffy froze. “You know, I only meant—” Spike began, trying to get around the fact that he’d just called his girlfriend a seemingly very un-girlfriend-like name.

“Actually, it’s okay, guys,” Dawn said quietly. “Simon knows.”

A panicked look crossed both of their faces. “Simon knows what exactly?” Buffy asked.

“Simon knows you’re the Slayer,” Dawn replied. “He overheard somebody calling you that in the Bronze, and I guess he saw you in action a few times.”

When they looked at the boy, he shrugged. “Well, it’s good to know who the players in this town are if you want to keep your neck in one piece,” he said philosophically. “Besides, I’ve played with Rick Farris a couple of times. He was one of Oz’s friends, and I’ve heard some of the stories.”

“Oh. Well, then,” a rather confused Spike managed to say. He hadn’t actually ever met a citizen of Sunnydale who was willing to admit to the strange goings on unless they were explicitly attached to Buffy somehow.

Buffy was equally confused, but a look at Simon’s earnest face convinced her that he was telling the truth. Whatever he knew, he had accepted a long time before, and didn’t seem to think it was remarkable or strange. It simply was. “I suppose that’s done then. I guess that’s one less thing we have to worry about hiding around here.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Spike said wryly. He looked at Simon again, a little more closely this time. “What else do you know, lad?” he asked.

Spike’s eyes seemed to bore into his soul, and Simon suddenly understood what Dawn had meant about him being scary. He had no doubt that the older man could be quite frightening when he wanted to be, but it was his eyes that unnerved Simon. There was a wealth of understanding and knowledge stored behind those eyes, and he wasn’t sure what he should feel about that. “Not much, to be honest.”

Spike nodded. “Well, I’m sure Dawn will fill you in eventually,” he said, giving her ponytail a friendly tug.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Only if you don’t scare him off,” she replied.

“Now, Bit, you know I wouldn’t do that,” he protested. “Though any guy worth his salt wouldn’t be scared off so easily.” He looked over at Simon, who understood the challenge plainly. Spike looked over at Buffy. “We should really get in the shower, luv. Willow and Xander’ll be here any minute.”

It didn’t take long for Simon to realize that he completely envied Dawn her friends and family. They might not be the most normal bunch in the world, but they were incredibly nice to him, and he could tell immediately that there was a bond between them that was unusual, to say the least. Among friends like that, it might be easy to feel like an outsider, but Willow went out of her way to talk to him after finding out he’d known Oz, at least peripherally, and still had contact with some of his friends. When Spike and Xander weren’t sparring verbally, they both acted like it was completely normal for him to be there. And Buffy was really nice.

Xander and Willow both left around nine, saying that they had work and school the next day. When it was just the four of them, Simon cleared his throat. “Uh, I wanted to ask you guys if I could take Dawn out Saturday night,” he said.

Spike leaned back into the couch, one arm thrown across the back, and a hand resting on Buffy’s shoulder. He looked over at the Slayer to see what she would say. “Where were you guys thinking of going?” she asked mildly.

Simon looked over at Dawn, who decided to fill in the blanks since they’d both talked about what they wanted to do earlier. “We were thinking about going to the Bronze. You know, just hang out.”

Buffy gave her a look that plainly said, ‘Do I look stupid to you?’ Hesitating ever so slightly, she asked, “Do you really think that’s the safest place, Dawnie?”

“Maybe not,” Dawn admitted. She hadn’t been all that thrilled to pass out in public, and really didn’t want a repeat performance. “But where else is there to go in this town?”

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to her,” Simon interjected quickly, meeting both Spike and Buffy’s eyes with a touch of defiance.

“Let her go, Buffy,” Spike said softly. “Can’t protect her all the time.”

She looked over at him, about to argue, but something in his eyes stopped her. “All right, you guys can go. But,” and she gave Dawn a hard stare as she said it, “curfew’s at 11, and if you miss it again, it’s going to be 10 permanently.”

“Thanks, Buffy,” Dawn said. She wasn’t completely happy about the arrangements, since she knew plenty of kids her age that were out all night and their parents didn’t even care. And at the same time, she’d had Buffy ignore her before, and it wasn’t pleasant. Concerned Buffy was definitely an improvement.

“Thanks,” Simon said sincerely. “I should probably get going though.”

Buffy and Spike both watched as Dawn walked Simon to the door and slipped out behind him. “Okay,” Buffy said, turning to Spike. “Spill. You have devious face.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I just thought we should probably make sure we spend at least one night a week at the Bronze, making sure it’s safe for the kiddies. Wouldn’t hurt to make that night Saturday night.”

Buffy’s eyebrows went up, and a sly grin spread over her face. “You aren’t seriously thinking about spying on Dawn and her date, are you?”

“Who’s spying?” he asked innocently. “This is patrolling, luv.”

“She’s gonna be pissed,” Buffy murmured, leaning in to kiss him.

“She’ll live,” he replied, kissing her back.

The kiss went on until Dawn came back inside. “Geez,” she commented, heading up the stairs. “Can’t you guys get a room?”

Chapter 9: Wild Nights

“Wild nights! Wild nights!/Were I with thee,/Wild nights should be/Our luxury!/Futile the winds/To a heart in port,--/Done with the compass,/Done with the chart./Rowing in Eden!/ Ah! the sea!/Might I but moor/To-night in thee!” ~Emily Dickenson

Buffy was reading the assignment for her next class when Spike came in the door, dropping his bag unceremoniously. “Hey, you’re home kinda late tonight,” she commented.

He glanced at her apologetically. “Sorry ‘bout that, luv. Liz and I got caught up in research, and then there were papers to grade.” He stood there, rubbing his eyes, and Buffy swung her legs off the couch to make room for him.

“Come here,” she said imperiously, and while he gave her an amused look, telling her he knew she was bossing him around and he was letting her, he sat. Buffy scooted him around until he lay with his head in her lap, and he closed his eyes in ecstasy as she started to rub his head. “You know, you probably wouldn’t get headaches nearly as much if you got glasses. You’re straining your eyes.”

“Don’t need glasses,” he muttered. “My eyes just get tired sometimes.”

“Besides,” she went on as though she hadn’t heard him. “I think you’d look cute in glasses.”

His eyes opened to look in her face, testing to see whether she was teasing him or not. “Really?” Then his eyes narrowed. “Though I still don’t need glasses.”

Buffy giggled, fully aware that it would only take one or two more suggestions on her part before he got the glasses and saved his eyes. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I like the haircut,” she murmured, running her fingers through loose curls. It was more the length it had always been, though he wasn’t using as much gel anymore. And it wasn’t bleached. “Are you thinking about bleaching it again?” she asked.

He closed his eyes, giving himself over to her ministrations. “Dunno. Maybe.”

“It’s not a bad look on you,” Buffy allowed, letting him know that she didn’t care. “Maybe you could just get the tips done.” He grunted, not wanting to say anything, just enjoying the feel of her hands on him.

He lay there in her lap, and Buffy couldn’t help but think about how it would feel to kiss him. How it would feel to let him touch her. Their relationship had gotten steadily more physical over the past few weeks, nothing too much, but it had been nice. In a way, with Spike, Buffy was getting to go through all the steps she’d skipped before. His insistance that they take it slow had forced both of them to talk, and if he thought there was an issue they weren’t addressing, he was the first to bring it up. But now Buffy thought they were actually getting close to moving to that next step, and his lips were way too inviting to pass up, and so she kissed him.

As tired as Spike was, he wasn’t so tired that he couldn’t respond to her. In moments, they’d shifted so that she lay on top of him, and their embrace grew more heated. Spike’s shirt was completely undone, and her shirt was halfway off when she stopped him. “Spike, wait.”

“Buffy—”

“Spike, stop.” He literally froze, the look on his face a mixture of disappointment and fear and terrifying guilt.

“Buffy, I didn’t—”

She took his face in her hands. “I only meant that we should probably go upstairs just in case Dawn decides to walk in.”

“Oh,” he seemed to relax, and cocked one eyebrow. “When you put it that way, luv.”

“Besides,” she said, a little smirk crossing her lips. “We should probably do it right this time around.” When he looked puzzled, her smile widened. “We’ve never really tried it in a bed before.”

Buffy lay next to him, watching as he slept. The rising and falling of his chest never ceased to amaze her. She could stay here forever, forget about the rest of the world, everything that came before, everything that might come after. Let it be just them. Spike started twitching slightly, and Buffy reached out one hand to calm him, but he shot upright before she could do anything.

He sat there, his breath coming in great heaves, and she noticed that he’d broken out in a cold sweat. She reached out to him, cupping one cheek with her hand. “Spike, it was just a dream. You’re safe.”

He looked over at her slowly, not quite believing what she said, the dream lingering behind deep-set eyes. “Buffy.”

“That’s me,” she replied quietly. “Was that the one about me being dead again?”

He shook his head and swallowed hard. “No. Same dream I’ve been havin’ for months now.” He slumped back on the bed.

“You want to tell me about it?” she asked.

“No,” he replied hoarsely. “You shouldn’t have to deal with my trash, luv.”

“Hey, this is me, remember?” she said. “You know, the girl who came back from the dead? If I remember correctly, you sat and listened to me when I needed it. And then again, you sat and talked to me when I needed that too. So here’s me. Listen-y Buffy.”

He smiled at that and reached up to brush a lock of hair out of her face. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

“Sweet talk will get you nowhere, mister,” she replied. “So spill.” A pained look crossed his face, and she rubbed his cheekbone with her thumb. “Spike, you don’t have to tell me, but I wish you would. Don’t try and shut me out for my own good. You’ll only end up pissing me off.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” he said with a smirk. “It’s about Dru,” he finally admitted. Buffy said nothing, so he continued. “It’s when she turned me, except that it’s now too, and I don’t want it, but I can’t stop it.”

Buffy caressed his face. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

“Don’t think so, luv,” he replied, giving her a sad smile. “Just a part of the baggage, I guess. Though to be fair, you should probably know I haven’t been sleeping much. There’s no sense in both of us losing sleep.”

“If you try going anywhere I’m going to kick your ass, Spike,” she said, though the twinkle in her eye told him she wasn’t actually serious. “Go back to sleep,” she whispered. “No one can hurt you here.”

“I thought I was the one s’posed to be protecting you,” he replied, though he didn’t sound exactly displeased.

She smiled. “I’m the Slayer, remember? I’m the one doing the protecting. Go to sleep,” she said again. “I’ll be right here.”

“You won’t leave?” he asked.

“No,” she replied. “I think you might be stuck with me.” And she realized that what she felt for him, this feeling welling up inside her, was close enough to love as to make no difference at all.

“Uh oh,” Buffy murmured. “Dawn just spotted us, and she doesn’t look pleased.”

Spike shrugged. “If you act like you don’t see her she’ll cool off.” He smiled at her. “Relax, pet. We’re here to do some hunting, right?”

She smiled back. “That was the plan.” Buffy eased back into the silence, happy for it. Not that it wasn’t good talking to Spike, but it was also nice just to sit with him, her senses alive. She remembered when she’d first come back from the dead, before they’d slept with (well, to be honest, screwed) one another. He had come to her then, or she’d gone to him, and they’d just sat, and it was nice. He was the only one she’d ever been able to do that with.

“By the bar, luv,” he said quietly, and she looked over. She could tell he was a vampire immediately, and she glanced back at Spike. “He put something in her drink,” he explained.

Spike had always been observant when it suited him, and Buffy could see the girl sway slightly. The vampire in question put a solicitous hand on her arm and began to lead her out the back way. “I’ll take care of him,” she said, and he nodded.

She got up, weaving her way through the crowd. This was the easy part, the part where everything narrowed to life and death and moments in time. She pulled a stake from where she’d tucked it, cleverly hidden in her waistband. The vampire was in the alley, looking to make a quick snack out of the girl. Buffy didn’t even feel the need to make one of her characteristic quips. One swift move and there was dust everywhere, and the girl slumped to the ground. Before Buffy could even move towards her, Spike was right there, picking her up. “Better check her purse, Slayer,” he said. “We should drive her home.”

Buffy did as he said. It was so interesting, watching him. There were times when he just stepped back and let her take the lead, and yet there were other times when he showed a remarkable amount of initiative. In this case, they drove her home and got her to the door of her house unscathed. Her parents were understandably worried when they told them what had happened, but Spike and Buffy both assured them everything would be fine. They gave the G-rated version; they’d seen her come over woozy at the Bronze and had offered to give her a ride home, which she’d then accepted. Whatever the guy had been using, and had used on Dawn, left fuddled memories around the time of the stuff getting into the system. Buffy shuddered to think of what might have happened if Dawn were truly on her own that night.

They went back to the car and Buffy let him take the keys. “Where to, luv?” he asked, climbing behind the wheel. “Back to the Bronze?”

“So Dawn can hate us forever?” Buffy asked. She reached over and took one of his hands in hers. “Besides, I had something better in mind.”

Spike looked over at the clock beside the bed. “The bit’ll be home anytime now, you know.”

Buffy checked the time and groaned. “Darn it. We should probably at least pretend to have been waiting impatiently.”

“Speak for yourself, luv. The only reason I’m not asleep is because I’ve been worryin’ myself sick over your sis.” He held up one arm to protect himself and laughed as she tried to hit him.

“You are such a pig!” she exclaimed, grabbing a pillow.

“Now, now,” he replied, grabbing his own pillow. “Remember, we agreed to no name calling.”

Buffy just giggled after swatting him a good one across the shoulder, and he growled, tossing his pillow aside and diving directly for her. They tussled on the bed, both of them panting and grinning like idiots. In the end, of course, Buffy ended up on top, her hands holding his wrists above his head. “Say uncle,” she said.

“Don’t think so. I don’t give up that easily,” he replied, grinning.

“Really?” she asked, and then kissed him, long, hard, and deep. “Say uncle.”

A sparkle of mischief lit up his eyes, and he replied, “Aunt.”

Buffy pretended to consider and then kissed him again. “That’ll do.” They were rapidly losing all awareness of everything except for one another until they heard Dawn calling up the stairs.

“Hey, Buffy? Spike? I’m home!” They both groaned then, and Spike crawled out of bed. “I’ll go downstairs, check to make sure everything went well,” he said. “I think I might look a little less mussed than you do, pet.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Right, Spike, like Dawn doesn’t know what’s going on at all around here. Doesn’t take much to figure it out.” She smiled. “She’ll probably want to tell us all about it anyway. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be down.”

Spike paused in the doorway and looked over at her. “Have I ever told you how much I love you, Buffy?”

She met his eyes, finally able to accept his words at face value, understanding the reality and the depth of it all. “Only about once a week.” She wanted to say it, but she couldn’t, and he seemed to understand, because all he did was smile and leave the room, pulling a shirt over his head as he went.

“I think I might love you,” she whispered to the air when he’d gone. One of these days she’d actually say it to his face.

“Well, you look like you took the brunt of it,” Liz commented wryly as Spike walked into her office.

He raised a scarred eyebrow and fingered the bruise that formed along his jawline. “Yeah, ran into a door, if you can believe that.”

Liz gave him a look of patent disbelief. “Actually, no I can’t. I take it you’re helping Buffy in her quest to save the world.”

Spike gave her a hard look. “I look after my girls, Liz. Whatever it takes.”

Her face immediately softened. “I know you do, William,” she replied. “But I must confess that I have selfishly gotten used to having a reliable graduate assistant, and don’t really want to lose him.”

“You won’t lose him,” Spike replied, amused. “I’ve been fighting for longer than you’ve been alive. And I haven’t died yet.” He shot her a cheeky grin. “Well, except for that first time, and I wasn’t fighting.”

“Do you regret it?” Liz asked. “Becoming a vampire, I mean. If you had it to do over, would you change it?”

“Funny,” he replied. “Dawn asked me if I regretted turning human again not long after I got back, and I said I didn’t.” He considered, and then said slowly. “The proper answer would be yes, absolutely, if I could change it, I would. And yet, if I’d never met Drusilla, I’d never have met Buffy either. And I can’t imagine my life without her. So I’d have to say no. I’d be selfish and leave it be, not change the past, no matter how much harm I’ve done.”

“You’ve done good, as well, though,” Liz pointed out.

“Perhaps,” Spike looked up and smiled. “I’ll never be able to undo or atone for what I’ve done, maybe, but I can try to be a good man. That’s not an opportunity I plan on passing up.”

Buffy wandered down the narrow hallway. She’d already checked the small closet Spike called an office, and was going to check to see if he was with Liz. One of her afternoon classes had been cancelled, and she thought she might surprise him. It would be nice just to be able to eat lunch together; they hadn’t been able to do much of that since school started. Spike was usually in class or working on research, and Buffy’s class load was fairly light. She wasn’t even on campus that much.

She heard his voice as she approached Dr. Kearns’ office, and he sounded frustrated. “The only other example of that sort of ritual is in the Protocols of Osiris, and it’s a good thing they’ve all been destroyed, if you ask me. They’re too bloody dangerous.”

“This particular ritual has no record of being done successfully,” a female voice reminded him. “A case like this is absolutely incredible.”

“That’s the problem,” Spike grumbled. “It might be incredible, but that’s all these amateurs think about. They don’t want to know anything about the consequences.”

“Exactly,” Liz replied, a note of triumph in her voice. “Which means if we can educate the amateurs on the consequences of their actions, we may have a chance to prevent something like this happening in the future.”

Buffy wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but something about their words sounded hauntingly familiar. Hesitating slightly, she knocked on the door. Hearing a cheery, “Come in,” she opened it and entered.

“Buffy,” Spike said with a smile, standing to greet her.

“Hey,” she replied. “I thought I might find you here.” She came up to him, letting him take her hand.

He grinned at her. “Buffy, this is my boss, Liz. Liz, this is Buffy.”

“Ah, yes, the Slayer,” Liz said, standing to shake her hand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. William has told me so much.”

Buffy smiled a little. “Some of it good, I hope.”

Liz smiled wryly. “When he’s not talking about how wonderful you are, he’s usually humming.”

Buffy’s smile grew wider as she saw Spike’s ears turn pink. “Humming? Really? How fascinating.”

Spike gave his mentor a pained look. “Is nothing sacred?”

“Not when you get that lovely pink color in your cheeks, my boy,” she replied. “You should probably take your lunch now, though. No use in letting such a lovely afternoon get away from you.” She squeezed his shoulder fondly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, William, but don’t bother coming back today.”

“Thanks, Liz,” he replied gratefully. A full free afternoon to spend with Buffy was a rarity he was fully prepared to enjoy.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied. “I’d like to have you both for dinner some night. Would you two be interested? Perhaps on Thursday?”

Spike gave Buffy a look that told her he’d be willing but it was up to her. “We’d be happy to come,” Buffy said, the standard response to any offer like that.

“Come about 7,” she said. “William knows where I’m at.”

“I thought you had class today, luv,” Spike said as they left the building and wandered towards the student center to get something to eat.

“It was cancelled,” Buffy explained. “Professor Lane was sick. I thought I’d come find you, and we could hang out.”

He snaked an arm around her waist. “I always knew you were a bloody genius, Buffy.” They got their sandwiches and went outside to eat. When they couldn’t find a table right away, Spike suggested sitting on the grass, which Buffy quickly agreed to. Suddenly, a voice called out. “Hey, Will, come on over here.”

Buffy looked over to see a table populated with several young men about Spike’s age. Well, at least the age he appeared. Spike glanced over at Buffy to see if she minded, and when she shrugged, led her over. “You lot have room?” he asked casually.

“Always have room for the guy who brings a gorgeous girl along,” a blonde, green-eyed man said grinning. “Hi, I’m Kief.”

“Hands off my girl,” Spike said, his tone teasing but serious. “Buffy, Kief’s a grad assistant with the Classics Department as well. That’s Johnson over there,” he pointed to a dark-skinned man, who had an earring in each ear. “He’s in the African studies department. And that loser’s Deke.” Deke was a thin, red-haired young man with freckles. Apparently, “loser” was a term of affection, because he merely waved and gave Buffy a shy hello.

They sat down at the table, and Buffy found herself at somewhat of a loss. In the past, the men she’d dated had, in many ways, been alone. Angel simply hadn’t had any friends, and she’d barely gotten along with Riley’s crew. But these guys seemed friendly enough, and they knew Spike fairly well. Well, in reality they knew Will, but they had no clue who Spike was. Buffy had to remind herself that here, in this world, “Will” was a grad student for a renowned scholar, and was thus accorded a great deal of respect by his peers. Not only that, but he seemed to know exactly what they were talking about, while Buffy was completely lost.

The conversation jumped from world politics to the value of the nature themes in Wordsworth, to the disintegration of American culture. Buffy hadn’t even realized that American culture had anything wrong with it. She was feeling more and more out of place and out of step, even as Spike intelligently debated the value of mass media in popular culture. After about an hour of feeling like a complete idiot, Spike glanced over at her, and seeing that she was uncomfortable, reached under the table to grasp her hand. “Sorry mates,” he said smoothly. “But I’ve been given the afternoon off with strict instructions to spend time with my girlfriend, so if you’ll excuse us…”

Buffy said good-bye and allowed Spike to grab her hand as they walked away. “You okay, pet?” he asked.

“Sure, I’m fine,” she replied.

He rolled his eyes expressively. “Buffy—” he began.

She huffed. “You know, I hate it when you do that.”

“Yeah, every bird hates it when her boyfriend reads her mind,” he smirked. “So spill.”

She turned to look at him. “Spike, I didn’t understand one thing that came out of their mouths. I didn’t even know that Wordsworth had a watchamacallit. And I didn’t know that American culture was in danger of becoming trite and meaningless. And you sat there, and you knew exactly what they were saying, and you had opinions on everything. How am I even supposed to talk to you?”

“Easy, Buffy,” he replied, smiling. “You talk, I listen. Piece of cake.”

“I’m not smart like that, Spike. I never will be.” Buffy looked away. “For a while, I thought I could really do this college thing, and now that I’m back, I don’t know that I can, and I’m wondering if I’m just wasting my time.”

“Hey now,” he said, taking hold of her arm. “Buffy, first of all, they’ve been havin’ the same conversation at universities across the world since the beginning of time. The names change a bit, and maybe the faces, but otherwise it’s all the same. I just happen to remember a bit from my university days. And secondly, don’t you ever think you’re not smart, luv. Seems to me I heard somewhere you scored high on your tests.”

She shook her head. “That was a fluke.”

“Right, luv. Never mind, you are a brainless cheerleader.” He snorted in disgust. “Buffy, you’ve got other things on your mind. Those prats, while nice enough gents, don’t think of anything more than what you just heard ‘em talkin’ about. Well, maybe their next glass of beer or what girl they’re going to take out on a Friday night. In a year or two, they’ll all move on, and nobody will remember them bein’ here, and the world won’t have changed a bit for them havin’ that conversation, or any of the other ones they’ve had in the past. Buffy, you save the world on a bloody regular basis, and you’re raisin’ your lil’ sis, and doin’ a damn good job. Don’t knock yourself for not bein’ a worthless brainiac like those wankers. Wouldn’t love you as much as I do if you were anythin’ other than what you are.”

Buffy smiled at his vehemence. She wasn’t sure how he did it, but he always seemed able to put things in perspective for her. “You’re not just saying that so I feel better?”

“Meant every word, luv,” he replied, the look in his eyes coming close to adoration.

She suddenly smiled. “Let’s go home, Spike. I think I feel the need to do some training.”

Spike stood, trembling, in the kitchen. It used to be that he lived for the night, and now it terrified him. Or, at least the dreams it brought did. He was bone-weary; it had been at least a week since he’d had a dream-free night, and the loss of sleep was beginning to take its toll. Really, if it wasn’t for the nightmares, his life would pretty much be nearing perfection at this point.

He and Buffy had had a great time with Liz. They had finally had an opportunity to talk about their research into resurrection spells, and Spike thought that Buffy had been relieved to go over her experiences. He didn’t think she’d ever been able to talk about what had happened with a neutral audience, and it was far enough in the past at this point that some of the sting had been taken out. It had been healing for both of them, and it was a relief for Spike that she knew what it was he and Liz had been working on for the past couple months. And she and Liz had really liked each other, which was good.

Dawn was getting on much better in school. She seemed to be enjoying herself, and Simon was a good influence on her. What made him happiest about the relationship was the boy’s nearly constant presence in their house, which made him very easy to keep an eye on. The only thing Spike worried about was Simon himself. His almost constant presence meant that something made it hard for him to go home, and Spike was beginning to like the guy.

Simon’s problems, whatever they might be, were his own though. Spike would do what he could, but he knew from experience that there were some things you couldn’t fix for someone, and their home life was usually one of those. Even so, he and Buffy had let Dawn know that Simon was welcome at any time, and they both seemed to be taking advantage of the offer. Both he and Buffy agreed that it was better that they be at the house than sneaking around. Not that they didn’t trust the two of them, but it made them feel a bit better.

Spike was interrupted from his musings by two slender arms wrapping themselves around his waist. “Hey.”

He placed his hands over hers. “What are you doing up?” he asked. “No point in both of us losing sleep, Buffy.”

“Have I ever told you how much I hate sleeping alone?” she replied.

He smiled. “Sorry, luv. Hated to leave you.” He turned in her arms to look down at her. “Go back to sleep, Buffy. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re exhausted,” she replied. “Come with me.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t dream again tonight.”

Buffy realized then that he was shaking. “Spike, you can’t keep doing this. You need to sleep. Why don’t you let me talk to Willow? I’m sure she could come up with something to help.”

“Buffy—” he was appalled to realize that his voice was unsteady and tears threatened. She saw it immediately, and pulled him with her to the couch in the living room.

“Shh,” she whispered, pulling him into her arms, and just holding him. “It’s going to be fine, Spike.”

To his own disgust, he found tears running down his cheeks. “Buffy, I’m so tired.”

“I know,” she replied. “Just let it out.”

“I didn’t want you to see this.” It had happened before, in the dark, as he sat alone, on his way back from Africa. He had hidden his weakness well, but now Buffy could see that his soul was still bruised.

“Do you think it matters to me?” she asked, softly. “I see what I’ve always seen. I see a good man trying to do his best. William,” she said, gently forcing him to look at her. “Whatever you’ve done, it doesn’t matter. You’re a good man.”

“But, Buffy, what I’ve done. I see it again—”

She laid her fingers on his lips. “It’s done. That means it’s in the past. I am so proud of you, of what you’ve managed to become. You’re enough for me, just as you are.” She leaned into his silence and kissed him, his lips salty with tears. How long had she loved him? she wondered to herself. Had she loved him before he’d gone? Before he’d helped her save the world? Had this feeling always been there, buried by grief and hurt? What she and Angel had was everything a first love was supposed to be. Romeo and Juliet a’ la Braham Stoker. It had been doomed from the beginning. But this, this wasn’t a five act tragedy, this was one of those I’ll love you forever and a day kind of loves. Let’s grow old and have a half dozen kids together things. She knew it and yet she still couldn’t say it, as though the words would somehow break the spell that surrounded them.

He finally fell asleep there, lying against her on the couch, a frown still furrowing his forehead. Buffy ran her fingers through his hair, trying to smooth out the pain that lingered. She felt easier within herself, now that she’d admitted how she really felt about him. There was a peace that wasn’t there before. Now, she just had to figure out how to say the words.

Chapter 10: Normal’s a Place in Illinois

“Is it enough to love, is it enough to breathe, somebody rip my heart out and leave me here to bleed. Is it enough to die somebody save my life. I’d rather be anything but ordinary please…Let down your defenses, use no common sense, if you look you will see that this world is a beautiful, accident, turbulent, succulent opulent permanent, no way. I wanna taste it, don’t wanna waste it away.” ~Avril Levigne

“Hey, Simon,” Rodney called from their usual spot outside the school. They never ate in the cafeteria if they could help it. As Simon said, school wasn’t a bad thing, but too much of it and it got depressing.

“Hey, Rod,” Simon replied with an easy smile, still hanging onto Dawn’s hand. Dawn had found herself at ease with Simon’s gang in a way she’d never felt around the more popular crowd. They were friendlier, for one thing, and for another, they were completely willing to be themselves. None of them had exactly the same style or the same way of doing things, and it felt good to be with a group that didn’t have a lot of expectations.

“Hey, Dawn,” Melissa said. She was Rodney’s girlfriend, and they both played for the band Ardent Living. In fact, they pretty much were the band. The other guitar player and their drummer were freshmen at UC Sunnydale.

“Hey, Mel. You guys playing again soon?” she asked. She liked their music, and knew that Buffy and Spike did as well.

Melissa glanced over at Simon. “Actually, we wanted to talk to Simon about that. We need you to fill in for Jerry.”

Simon shrugged. “No problem. You know I don’t mind helping out.”

Evan, a heavy-set kid with coke-bottle glasses, laughed. “Dude, you just don’t mind playing that sweet guitar of yours.”

Simon shrugged and looked over at Melissa, who looked over at Rodney. “Si, it’s not just for a gig. Jerry’s getting really serious about this whole med school thing. He says next semester he’s going to really grind it out. Personally, I think he’s just having issues with his dad, but we still need another guitar player, and you’re the best.”

Dawn watched as Simon’s eyes went dark and stormy. “You know how Dick is about me playing,” he hedged. Dawn knew that Simon and his stepdad didn’t get along, and she knew that part of it was that they disagreed on just about everything, but this was the first she’d heard about the music thing. And Simon was really good.

“Just because Dick the Dork doesn’t think there’s any kind of music but opera,” Rodney muttered. “Still, man, could you give it a shot? We don’t have a lot of gigs lined up for next semester, so you could kind of ease him into it. ‘Sides, they hardly know where you are half the time anyway.” He gave Dawn a knowing grin.

“I think you should do it if you want to,” she said quietly.

He hesitated. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just—” he broke off. “I’ll think about it.” After that the conversation turned to mutual whining about their various parental figures. Dawn listened, but didn’t join in. She felt left out, partly because she didn’t really have any parents, and partly because she was getting along really well with both Spike and Buffy right now. She didn’t have much to complain about.

Melissa commented on that. “You are so lucky, Dawn. Not having your mother breathing down your neck every two minutes because you’re not cleaning your room, or you’re wearing something she thinks looks stupid, or whatever. I mean, it must be so cool, not having to worry about that all the time.”

Dawn hesitated, not wanting to be morbid, and yet not wanting to confess how much she still missed her mom every day, and would give her right arm for a good old motherly guilt trip. “It’s cool,” she finally replied. “Buffy’s great, and Spike’s really nice to have around too.”

Rodney joined in. “Yeah, it’s gotta be great living with your sister and her boyfriend. So much easier than living with my dad. He gets on my case for everything.”

“It’s good,” was all Dawn would say, but after another minute she got up to leave. “I’ve got to go get a couple books for a research project,” she said quietly. “I’ll see you after school, Simon.” She bent down and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

Simon watched her go and then turned to Melissa and Rodney with something of a grim look on his face. “Now you’ve done it,” he said.

“What?” They both looked completely innocent, but Evan shook his head. He’d understood, even if they hadn’t. He lived with his grandparents and knew what it was like to miss family.

Simon shook his head. “Dawn’s mom died a couple years ago, and her sister really struggled just to make ends meet. So it’s better now, but she’d probably do just about anything in order to have her mom or dad around for her.”

They both looked stricken, both remembering and feeling remorse. “You think she’s okay?” Melissa asked.

He nodded. “She’s alright, but she doesn’t get the parents are a drag thing, you know?” he said. “She’d be happy just to have parents.”

Later that day, he strolled next to her as they walked toward her house on Revello Drive. “So what are you guys doing for Thanksgiving?” he asked.

She smiled at him. “I think Buffy’s going to try to make a big dinner again. She did a few years ago when Mom and I were out of town, and I hear it turned out pretty well.”

“Sounds like fun. What about Christmas?”

“Well, probably more of the same,” she answered. “We all kind of do what we can. Holidays and birthdays have a tendency to get kind of crazy around our house. Or depressing, depending on whether it’s Buffy’s birthday or mine. What about you?”

He shrugged. “We’ll go to my grandma’s house for Thanksgiving. She lives in Seattle. And I think I’ll pretty much be on my own for Christmas. Mom and Dick are going to his family’s house, and I don’t get along so well with them.”

Dawn stared at him. She knew things at his house weren’t great, but she couldn’t imagine being on her own for Christmas. “Why don’t you spend some time with us?” she suggested. “I know Buffy and Spike wouldn’t mind. And you know everyone who’d be there, except maybe for Giles if he manages to make it.”

He shook his head. “Maybe. That would probably be better than being depressed by myself anyway.” Simon looked at her, deep blue eyes serious. “What about you? Are you okay?”

“You mean that thing at lunch today,” she stated. They’d reached the house and had gone into the kitchen to start their homework. “Yeah, I just hear people talk like that and I want to shake them. They have no idea how good they have it.”

“I know,” he replied. “Melissa and Rod both felt bad about that. It’s hard to remember that parents are good things when you have them sometimes.”

Dawn smiled. “I think Buffy remembers how that is, but things were really good between Mom and I before she died. I mean, we were still pretty close, and I was the baby.” Dawn looked over at him. “Simon, are things really okay with you? I know you and Dick haven’t been getting along, but it’s okay right?”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. Not great, but okay. It really helps to be able to get out of there as much as possible. And being around your house is great. Like going on a vacation or something.”

Dawn laughed. “Then you’ve never been on a real vacation,” she replied. “I just wish things were normal, you know?” she said wistfully.

Simon gave her a smirk. “Normal’s a place in Illinois.”

She stared at him like he’d just gone insane. “What?”

His smirk changed to a grin, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “There’s a town in Illinois called Normal. I used to say that there wasn’t any such thing, which is still true, but ‘normal’ really does exist.”

Dawn raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so there’s a town called Normal, but what do you mean about normal not being real?”

“It’s all in your head,” he replied earnestly. “The thing is, normal’s kind of on a continuum. On the one side, you’ve got people like Mrs. Smith, the math teacher. She’s married to a banker, has two kids, a white picket fence and a dog. Her life is about as normal as it gets. On the other end of the continuum, you have people who are completely not normal. Everyone else falls somewhere in the middle.”

Dawn still looked skeptical. “So what you’re saying is that we fall at one end of the continuum.”

He shook his head emphatically. “I’m saying that no one is completely normal or abnormal. They aren’t real, because as soon as you find someone who seems completely normal, you find out something about them you didn’t know before, or they change, or they get bored and run off. Normal isn’t real, Dawn, it’s some fiction people cook up to make you fit into their little box.”

“What about Marcy and Janice and the rest?” she demanded. “They have normal enough lives.”

Simon hesitated. “Maybe. But how do you know that it’s going to stay that way, or that something going on at home isn’t completely weird? And how do you know you wouldn’t be bored out of your skull if things were completely normal?”

She smiled a little bit. “Maybe you’re right,” Dawn confessed. “But I think I’d like to try just a little bit of being normal for a change.”

Simon leaned in to kiss her. “I know,” he whispered. Their kiss was sweet and hopeful, everything a first love should be. “But hey, look at me, normal guy here.”

Dawn grinned back. “No way you’re normal,” she replied. “You’re one of a kind.”

The festivities inside the house were still going full swing when Spike stepped out into the night air. Things had been better for him the last month or so. Buffy had finally convinced him to talk to Willow and she’d immediately concocted some sort of tea that was supposed to aid sleep. Which it certainly did. The nice thing about it was that it didn’t make him sleepy, it just prevented the nightmares he’d nearly become accustomed to.

There were still moments among the Scoobies when he felt as though he needed some space, though, and then he retreated to the back porch. Buffy and Dawn were busy talking to Giles on the phone, and Xander and Anya were engaged in a conversation that would most likely end in bed. Spike would bet his next paycheck on it. They’d both tried it with other people, and had come to the conclusion that they were pretty much it for one another. He thought they might actually get it right this time around.

Simon was sitting on the back steps when Spike came out, leaning back and looking at the sky, apparently lost in thought. “Mind if I join you, Blue Boy?” Spike asked.

“Sure. It’s your porch,” he replied, smiling at the older man. What would have been an insult from anyone else was a term of endearment coming from the ex-vampire. Dawn had explained Spike’s habit of nicknaming people soon after he’d started calling Simon “Blue Boy,” and had assured him it was affectionate. At this point in his relationship with Spike, Simon could tell for himself.

“You’re the guest,” Spike replied with a smile, but sat down next to him. As soon as he and Buffy had heard that Simon would be on his own for Christmas Eve and Christmas, they invited him to spend the night. With the understanding, of course, that there wouldn’t be any funny business. Spike had made contact with Dick the Dork, as Dawn called him, and had to agree with his Bit. Dick was a prat and any number of other things, but he’d secured permission, and Simon wouldn’t be alone at least.

“Thanks for that,” Simon said. “This is a lot better than being in an empty house.”

“Spent enough lonely Christmases to know what that’s like, lad.” Spike leaned back against the post. “You want to tell me anything about what’s going on at home?”

Simon hesitated. It would be so easy to spill everything, to tell Spike the whole story. Spike was one of those people who looked right into you, that you felt you might be able to say anything to, but secrecy had been a part of his life for a long time now. It wasn’t easy to just end it. “I’m okay,” was all he eventually said.

Spike nodded. He could guess at what went on behind closed doors, but not much more than that, so he let it go. “You know you’re welcome here at any time for any reason, right?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Simon looked up at the stars. “I like being here,” he confessed.

Spike smiled. “So do I,” he replied.

Eventually, Simon followed Spike inside to be greeted by both Buffy and Dawn. “Hey, you disappeared,” Buffy said softly.

“Got a bit noisy, pet,” he replied softly. He looked over at Dawn who was speaking quietly with Simon, their foreheads almost touching. “They’re good together,” he commented.

Buffy gave him an amused look. “And here I thought when Dawn got her first boyfriend you would be Mr. Over-protective.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “I spoke with him. He understands what will happen if he steps out of line.” His face gentled. “He’s a good kid, though. Honorable, you know.”

Buffy pulled him out of the kitchen into the living room. Xander and Anya had left, and Willow had taken the bed in Buffy’s old room, since she was spending the holidays with them. “You really like him, don’t you?”

Spike shrugged uncomfortably. “There’s something there, luv. He reminds me of someone, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“You mean, he reminds you of you,” she said, obviously amused at this point.

Spike looked shocked. “He’s not that big of a wanker.”

Buffy laughed out loud. “I didn’t mean that. I only meant he’s really sweet. Kind of like you, when you want to be. That’s not a bad thing, Spike.”

Spike sighed as Buffy leaned in close to him on the couch. It was the best part of being with her now, he thought. Just being able to be near her and hold her, without fear that she was going to run away at any moment. “Maybe that’s it, but he’s been good for Dawn. She’s happier when she’s with him, and that’s enough for me. Though if he hurts her, I’ll kill him.”

“You’ll have to stand in line, sweetheart.”

Spike froze for just a moment. She’d never called him that before; it seemed odd. But nice. Really nice. “So what did you get me for Christmas, pet?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to tell you, Spike. It’s Christmas Eve. You’ll have to wait till tomorrow just like everyone else.” Buffy hesitated for a second. There was one thing she’d been waiting to give him, and had thought to do it the next day, but now she wasn’t so sure. She thought it might be a little personal, and maybe a little emotional too. “I did have something I wanted to give you tonight, though.”

Spike watched in consternation as she ran up the stairs. He wasn’t sure what she wanted to give him, but he was more than a little concerned. She’d tensed up just before she’d left, and he wasn’t sure what it could be. When she came downstairs a few minutes later, he knew. The coat she held in her arms was a reminder of his past that he wasn’t sure he needed or wanted. “Buffy—” he began, but she interrupted him before he could go further.

“Look, Spike, I know this isn’t really you anymore. I think we both know that. But it’s still yours, and it was a part of you for a long time. I kept it for you, and I thought you should be the one to decide what to do with it.” Buffy held it out to him, and he took it from her, his blue eyes dark with emotion.

Wordlessly, he swung it over his shoulders and slipped his arms into the sleeves, so that he stood strong and steady and dangerous. He looked over at her, and he was his old self again: the cocky vampire who’d tried to kill her, the equally cocky vampire who’d come to help her avert the end of the world. The completely pathetic waste-of-space he’d been after he’d gotten the chip, but before he’d started helping them. The one who took care of her little sister night after night, keeping a promise to a dead woman. The man she’d helped to break.

“Spike—” Dawn’s voice came from the doorway, and he looked over at her, the spell broken.

Simon stood behind her, his eyes wide as he took in the suddenly dangerous figure. “Wow. That is a seriously awesome coat.”

Spike glanced down at it briefly, and shrugged it off. “It is,” he agreed simply. “Think I’ll save this for patrolling, luv,” he said to Buffy, his blue eyes darkening with emotion.

“Good idea,” she agreed in return, watching him as he walked away, a hint of the swagger that had been his trademark back in his step. And she thought they were both finally starting to put all the pieces back together.

Spike glanced up as the knock came on his office door. “Come in,” he called. There weren’t a lot of students who came in at the beginning of the semester. They usually waited until last minute or after the first paper had been handed back. He really wasn’t too surprised when Willow poked her head in, though. She’d made a habit of popping by every week or so the last semester, just to say hi and maybe chat for a while. It seemed like she was planning on doing the same this semester as well.

“Hey, Spike. I come bearing hot choclatey goodness!” She grinned as she held out one of those disposable to-go cups, which he stood to take from her. “No marshmallows, but whipped cream is almost as good.”

Spike returned her grin in appreciation. “I’d have to agree with you there, Red. What brings you by with the pick-me-up? Not that I mind,” he hastened to assure her.

She smiled. “I understand.” Willow reached into her purse and pulled out a small package. “Buffy called me the other day and said you were out of that tea I made for you. So, I thought I’d drop some by.”

Spike made a face. “Buffy called you?”

Willow rolled her eyes slightly. “Well, she got really tired of waking up in an empty bed, and she said she didn’t want to go through that again. And I don’t want to meet a grumpy Buffy if I don’t have to.”

He smiled reluctantly. “Neither do I. So what else is up?”

Willow smiled nervously. “What makes you think something else is up?”

“You aren’t a good liar, Red. And you really aren’t good at hiding things. So what’s up?” he asked again patiently.

She hesitated, and then began to speak. “I got this scholarship to spend next year at Cambridge. It’s an incredible opportunity, and I didn’t think I’d get into the program. But it would mean I could spend some more time with the coven, and that’s something I really want to do too.”

Spike frowned. “I’m not sure I see the problem,” he replied. “If it’s something you want, why not do it?”

“I just feel like I’d be leaving everyone. It was the same way when I was trying to decide where to go to college, and I didn’t want to leave Buffy or Xander.”

Spike felt for her. She was obviously agonizing over her decision a good bit. “Look, Will, this isn’t like it was four years ago. I’m not saying that you all aren’t friends, and you probably always will be, but you’ve each got your own lives. You’re right, this is an incredible opportunity for you, and if you don’t take it, Buffy will probably kick your arse.”

She smiled. “I guess you’re probably right. Do you really think it’s the right thing to do?”

“I think if you want it, it’s the right thing.”

Willow gave him a relieved smile. “Thanks, Spike. I knew I could trust you to give me an honest opinion. I’ve got class, so I have to run, but I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Sure,” he replied, watching her leave, feeling slightly perplexed. He didn’t mind that she’d confided in him, but thought it slightly odd. At the same time, he understood that Buffy’s friends were starting to regard him as someone they could trust and come to, and he felt honored by that.

Chapter 11: A Stone to Stand On

“silently if,out of not knowable/night’s utmost nothing,wanders a little guess/(only which is this world)more my life does/not leap than with the mystery of your smile/sings or if (spiralling as luminous/they climb oblivion)voices who are dreams,/less into heaven certainly earth swims/than each my deeper death becomes your kiss/losing through you what seemed myself,i find/selves unimaginably mine;beyond/sorrow’s own joys and hoping’s very fears/yours is the light by which my spirit’s born:/yours is the darkness of my soul’s return/--you are my sun,my moon,and all my stars” ~e.e. cummings

The fight was on. The Fyarl Spike and Buffy had taken on was bigger than most of its species, and pretty much bigger than Buffy and Spike put together. The ex-vampire wore his long leather coat as he had since Buffy had returned it to him, at least on patrol. Everywhere else he was still human-Spike, or William, depending on who you were talking to, but here he was the Big Bad again, the only one who was qualified to watch the Slayer’s back. Unless, of course, he got laid out on his.

The Fyarl backhanded him, sending him flying and crashing into a tombstone. As he lay there stunned, he dimly saw the Fyarl get the better of Buffy, sending her sailing into a tree, where she fell in a boneless heap. In that split second, he thought he had lost her again, and the inner demon he’d thought had been exorcised in Africa came out with a roar. With a strength he didn’t know he had, Spike picked himself off the ground, speeding across the intervening space, and began beating on the demon with his bare hands. Buffy, who quickly came around, watched with an _expression bordering on awe as he took it down with a strength born of adrenaline and fear, snapping its neck.

She almost expected his face to be that of a vampire’s when he turned to check on her, but it was purely Spike, the _expression in his eyes one of worry and fear for her safety. As she picked herself up off the ground, he turned from her to look at what he had done, and another _expression took over.

“Buffy,” he choked out. “I’m sorry.”

The Slayer frowned slightly. Spike had just killed a huge Fyarl demon with his bare hands. The vampire he had been would have been preening at this point, but she realized the man was shocked at the level of violence he was still capable of. “Spike, it’s okay. You killed him, not a big deal. In fact, that was the whole goal.”

He shook his head, unable or unwilling to understand his own actions. “I can’t be around you,” he whispered. “I’ll hurt you.”

“Spike, you killed it. If you hadn’t, it would have killed both of us, or it would have tried. There’s nothing wrong with that.” She watched, bemused, as he simply stood there, unmoving. Sighing, she took him by the arm and gave him a little shake. “Come on, help me get rid of the body and then we’ll go talk.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue,” she commanded. “Trust me. If you decide to hurt me, I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

He helped her move the body in silence, and then allowed her to take his hand and lead him. Buffy knew that home would not be a good place at the moment. Spike had just done a really masterful impression of his vampire-self, and Buffy realized, in a moment of insight, that he would need a place to decompress. A place that wasn’t a reminder of what he was now, something that was in-between, and there was really only one place to go.

He pulled back from her when they reached the Bronze, protesting. “Buffy, I’m not in the mood.”

“Fine, you’re not in the mood,” she replied. “But you need a drink, and I can certainly use one, and you can’t go home right now.” At the shamed look in his eyes, she rolled her own. Really, he was a great guy, but sometimes he was such a drama queen. “I only meant that you need some time to chill, kind of work through what just happened. When we’ve done that, we’re both going to go home and go to bed.”

He nodded shortly, some of his temper coming back at the impatience in her tone. Buffy left him at the table and went to get a couple beers. While she didn’t suggest making drinking a habit, especially since bad things tended to happen to drunken Slayers, a beer had the tendency to take the edge off, especially for what they had to talk through.

She set the bottle down in front of him and waited for him to say something. When he remained stubbornly silent, she reached over and touched his hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He withdrew his hand. “No.”

Buffy shrugged and took a drink, deciding to wait him out. After a rather tense pause that lasted all of two minutes, he said quietly, “I thought I lost you tonight.”

“Spike, he knocked me into a tree. Last time I checked, it took a fall from a seven story tower through a rip in the sky to kill me.” Her words were light, but her tone was tender.

He shook his head. “I saw you hit the ground, and you were laying there like you did that morning, and I was there again, and I hadn’t stopped it. I was too bloody slow and I didn’t stop it in time.”

This time Buffy reached across the table and grasped his hand more firmly. “I thought we went through this, Spike. You did your best, and you kept doing it long after I was buried. You did more than I ever thought to ask you for. It wasn’t your fault.” She hesitated, and continued as she realized what their conversation was really about. “But that’s not why you’re upset.”

“I lost control,” he admitted. “I might as well have been a vampire with a blood lust. I would have killed anything right then, Buffy. I didn’t care.”

“But you didn’t kill ‘anything,’ you killed a very large demon.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m still evil. I’ve still got it in me. I thought I’d gotten rid of it, that I could wear this coat again and make something new out of it, but I’m still ugly and dark inside, Buffy. What can I offer you?”

Buffy hesitated, choosing her next words very carefully. She could make him or break him with her words, she finally admitted to herself. Spike didn’t get fists. You could beat him to a pulp, and he still wouldn’t change his mind or back down, but say the wrong thing, and you would rip his heart out of his chest and stomp it to pieces. “Do you love me, Spike?”

He looked at her, hurt evident in his eyes. “You know I do. How can you ask me that?”

“Do you love every piece of me?”

“What?”

She stared into his deep blue eyes. “Come on, Spike, it’s important.”

“Of course, I do. Wouldn’t be love otherwise. You’re everything to me.” His look was intent, letting her see the pain her question had caused.

“Then do you love the darkest part of me, the part that no one else ever wants to see or will admit exists?” she asked, and though she knew the answer, her heart hung on his words.

“I’ve seen it and I still love you,” he replied. Then, as understanding dawned, he protested, “Buffy, this is different.”

“Is it?” she countered. “No one has ever loved me like that before, Spike. Angel didn’t want to see my dark side, and Riley couldn’t completely accept it. You’re the only one who took everything I am and never even flinched. There’s no one else in this world I can say the same thing about, not my friends, not my sister, not even my mother. That last year, when I treated you so badly, I wanted you to go away because I needed you too much.

“I see everything you are, and I need every part of you. Tonight, you let the demon loose, and that’s okay, because we were in the middle of a fight, and you lost it because you wanted to protect me. If you didn’t have that little bit of darkness left inside, we couldn’t be together, because I would always feel as though I had to hide something from you. And I don’t.”

“What if it happens again, and the next time I hurt a person?” He looked away. “I won’t let that happen.”

“No, you won’t, because you never have before. Look, Spike, when it was all over, you made sure I was okay. If you were really that crazy, if a demon were really in control, you’d have run off or tried to kill me or something. You took care of your target, and that’s the important thing.” Buffy reached across the table to touch his face. “Besides, I liked your demon. He could be really sweet.” When he didn’t move, she pulled him away from the table onto the dance floor, showing him with her hands and her movements what she felt in her heart. As the music slowed, she let him pull her into the circle of his embrace, offering comfort to him.

She had forgotten that Ardent Living was playing tonight, and she listened to Simon’s young voice floating across the dance floor.

“I got nothing left to give,

Got no reason left to live,

But you’re standing there looking in my eyes.

I got nothing left in me,

Got taken by life and reality,

But you’re still lookin’ at me like I’m somethin’ fine.

Have I ever told you what you are?

You’re my stone to stand on,

My port in a storm,

You’re the only one who’s still got faith in me.

And I been black and blue,

I’ve been torn in two,

But your hand is always gentle over mine,

I’ve been left behind,

Almost lost my mind,

You’re the sanity I thought I’d never find.

So I’ll tell you what you are.

You’re my stone to stand on,

My port in this storm,

And you’re the only one who still has faith in me.

You make me stronger,

You make me better,

I’d be a man for you,

You make me stronger,

You make me better.

And I’ll be the man for you.”

Buffy reached up and tilted his chin so that he was looking her in the eyes. “You’re it for me, William,” she whispered softly. “All of you.”

He smiled, though his face was still slightly pained. “I’m still all yours, luv.”

Spike’s face was creased in concern as Buffy came out of the bathroom. “You all right, pet?” he asked, reaching out to put a hand against her forehead.

Buffy smiled at him. Spike had never been one for brooding, but he’d come dangerously close to it the last couple of days. Unlike Angel, who always seemed to have a dark cloud hovering overhead, Spike had done relatively well with the new addition of a soul plus humanity. There were still traces of the grief he bore, however, in his eyes and in the lines around his mouth that hadn’t been there before he’d gone haring off to Africa. But in his concern for her well being, he was completely concentrating on her welfare, rather than the burden of his past. “I’m fine. It’s probably just a little flu or something. I don’t even feel that bad, just a little sick to my stomach.”

“Still, maybe you should go see the doctor or something. Or call in to work. I don’t think you should be goin’ anywhere today.” As if to underscore his point, he tugged her back towards their bed.

“I’m not going to the doctor, Spike. This will pass, I promise. And I’m not calling in sick to work. I don’t have sick days, which means if I’m not there, I don’t get paid.” Buffy was firm on this point. While they might be doing better financially with the extra Spike was bringing in, it simply meant that they could afford to buy decent food, and maybe go out once in a while. It didn’t mean she could slack off; she had a place for every penny in her paycheck.

He sighed. “Maybe we should talk about that, Buffy. I could probably pick up another job, bring in some extra cash.”

“Absolutely not,” she replied hotly. “I don’t get to see you often enough as it is. You go getting another job and I really won’t see you.” She gave him a hug, relishing the tenderness of his hands as they stroked her back. “We’re fine, but I can’t afford to miss work over getting a little sick. If I start feeling worse, I’ll come home, but I’m fine. Really. Slayer strength, remember?”

“How could I forget?” he asked with a leer.

She grinned back. “Don’t get me started this morning, buddy. If I don’t get moving, I’m going to be late.” She gave him a quick, hard kiss and went about getting ready for work.

“So is she okay?” Willow asked, her voice mirroring the concern in Spike’s face.

He shook his head. “She says she is. The nausea is gone by the afternoon. Says it’s just a little bug, and when I told her she should see the doctor, she said she wouldn’t. Bugger me,” he muttered. “Don’t know what to do, but I thought she might listen to you.”

Willow raised her eyebrows. “This is the same Buffy we’re talking about, right? Because the last time she was really sick we had to wait for her to pass out before she’d go to the hospital.” Seeing the look in his eyes, she quickly added, “Not that she needs to go to the hospital this time, of course.”

He sighed. “Maybe she’s right. Bloody hell, it’s not like I know that much about human females.” At Willow’s giggle he gave her a dirty look and then changed the subject before the territory became too unfamiliar. “Have you told the rest of them about Cambridge yet?”

Her smile faded to a guilty look. “Nooo. I’m waiting for the right moment.”

He quirked his eyebrow and gave her a sardonic smile. “Well, I suppose you could wait until you throw your own going-away party before spilling the news.”

Now it was her turn to glare. “Fine, Spike. You tell all your friends that you’re going to a foreign country for who knows how long, and there’s no guarantee you’ll be back.”

He smiled and shrugged. “Think I’ll pass, Red. Never was much one for good-byes.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell them.” She glanced up at the knock on the door. “Looks like you’ve actually got a student for office hours,” she observed, smiling. “That’s my cue to take off.”

As she opened the door to let in a very young looking freshman, she turned to face him again. “I promise I’m going to tell them.”

“Sure, pet,” he replied, watching with amusement as she left and the other girl came in. Willow would have to tell them soon, he knew, because she definitely wasn’t any good at keeping secrets like this one. “What can I do for you?” he asked the girl, putting personal matters out of his mind to focus on the business at hand.

He vaguely recognized her from his mythology course. While he did his best to learn names, he didn’t take roll, which meant he usually only knew someone if they made it a point to talk in class or get to know him. This girl was very young, very thin and extremely nervous. “I didn’t mean to come at a bad time, Mr. Benton,” she replied, hesitating.

“Not a bad time at all,” he answered smoothly, finally coming up with her name. “Jen, isn’t it?” he asked. “These are office hours, so I’m here to serve you. And please call me William.”

Jen held out a paper to him hesitantly. “I just wanted to know if you thought this paper was okay,” she confessed. “I really need a good grade in this course.”

He smiled gently, waving her into the chair on the other side of his desk even as he took the paper from her. Spike wanted to put her at ease, since she looked like she might bolt at any moment. “Of course,” he replied. “Just to let you know, though, this is a freshman course for a reason. I don’t think I’ve given anyone less than a B at present, provided they turn their work in on time.” There was no question of that with her. The paper she’d given him was due in about two weeks.

“It’s just—I really want to do well.” Spike could tell the poor girl was on the edge of a nervous breakdown, and he set the paper aside.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” he suggested. “I’m sure you know by now that I’m supposed to be one of the easiest teachers on campus.”

She shook her head emphatically. “Oh, no, but you’re not. It’s just that you’re so good at teaching, it makes it seem easy.” Jen frowned. “I just think I’m going to get a B in physics, you know, and I think a good grade in this class will balance that out.”

“Nothin’ wrong with a B, now,” he encouraged her, but she shook her head and proceeded to tell him why her life was about to end. After about five minutes, Spike felt like he had gotten in way over his head. The poor kid’s father was dying, and all she wanted was for him to be proud of her. She had scholarships to keep, and she knew that if she lost them, she’d never be able to finish school. Her roommate was a social butterfly, meaning she couldn’t study in her room, and it was hard to find another spot. She was having trouble adjusting to college life and was afraid she’d get lost and wouldn’t make it.

Spike had no clue why she was confiding in him, but she was, and there wasn’t much he could do except sit there, listen, and make small sounds of encouragement at various intervals. In the end, she stood slowly. “I’m sorry, I’ve taken up too much of your time.”

He looked over at the clock and realized that his office hours had been over by a half an hour. “Anytime, Jen. Lighten up on yourself, though. I can tell you you’re gonna do fine in my class. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll go over the paper, give you some tips.”

Her whole face lit up. “Thank you so much. You’ve been a huge help.”

Spike was still unsure of what exactly he had done, but it gave him a small glow of happiness in his middle to know that he’d managed to lighten her load a little. Later, when he was talking to Liz over a pile of very old books, he told her about Jen’s visit.

“I’m not that surprised,” Liz responded. “I expect she simply needed to get a few things off her chest. Besides, you’re a wonderful teacher, William. I would like to have you teach my beginning Latin class next year as well. I think you’d do a marvelous job.”

He stared at her. “You really think that?”

“Of course,” Liz said. “You’re a good man, with a great deal of compassion and patience, just the right combination for teaching a bunch of freshmen trying to learn Latin.” She smiled slightly.

“If you think so,” he replied dubiously.

“I know so,” was her rejoinder. “William, I’ll be retiring in a few years. By that time, I’d like you to be ready to step into my spot. There are very few who are qualified to take my place, and I would like you to be one of the candidates. Also, there are fewer still who would be willing to come to Sunnydale. I feel you are an invaluable asset, and I have no intention of losing you at any point in the near future.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t a clever response, but it was the only one he could think of. He admired Liz greatly, and to have her give him her approval gave him a warm feeling similar to that he’d had earlier with Jen. Knowing what she thought, in spite of what he’d done in the past, thawed out the part that had frozen with his realization that he was still capable of great violence even after the demon had left. He smiled slowly. Not only did he have something to offer Buffy, he also had something to offer the world.

It was quiet in the house. Both he and Buffy had made a very quick patrol and then had gone back to the house around 10, neither one of them quite able to keep their hands off each other. Just because they were starting to feel like an old married couple certainly didn’t mean they had to act like it.

They lay in the afterglow of their lovemaking and talked idly of their day. Spike had to concede that this was the part he enjoyed the most. The sex was amazing, of course, but he’d had amazing sex in the past, and it didn’t mean anything in the end. The bit that came after, where they talked, and laughed, or disagreed with each other, that was what was gold to him. He was telling her about the girl who’d come to see him, and what Liz had said.

“You were surprised?” Buffy asked incredulously, twisting in his embrace to face him, one elbow propped on her pillow.

He frowned slightly. “A bit, I guess. Didn’t bloody well expect for her to want me to take over.”

“Why not?” When the look on his face continued to be one of puzzlement, she explained patiently. “Spike, you’re a good teacher. I know because I sat in on one of your classes a couple weeks ago, and I thought it was really interesting. You don’t know what it takes to keep me awake in a class, especially when they’re not telling me what’s going to be on the final.”

“When were you there?” he asked, totally appalled that he had missed her.

“A couple weeks ago. I thought it might be weird for you to have me there, so I didn’t say anything, and then there was that Ghora demon that night…” She trailed off, and Spike knew exactly what she was talking about. Along with the Ghora, there had been about a dozen vampires, plus a couple other demons of indeterminate variety. By the time they’d gotten home, they’d been so exhausted that they’d showered together with no intentions other than getting clean and falling into bed. Spike hadn’t believed it possible.

“You really thought I was good?” he asked, a delighted smile creeping across his face.

“Yes,” she replied, exasperated. “How many times do you have to hear it?”

He gave as good a shrug as he could manage from his position lying on his back, looking up at her. “It’s just—I haven’t been good for much of anything except death and mayhem for a while, luv. It’s nice to know I have other talents.”

She grinned at him. “Oh, trust me, you have plenty of other talents.” She leaned down and kissed him, causing him to groan. Then the kiss deepened, and might have led to more except for the doorbell.

Even at a Slayer’s house, a doorbell after 11 o’clock did not speak of anything good. Spike was immediately out of bed and pulling on a pair of pants, Buffy close behind him. He’d just managed to pull a t-shirt over his head when he reached the front door, surprised to see Simon standing on the other side. He was actually less surprised to see the bruise darkening one side of the boy’s face.

“Come in,” he said quietly, holding the door open for him.

“Thanks,” Simon replied, clutching a pack and looking at the older man nervously. “I’m sorry if I woke you up. I just didn’t know where else to go. I had to get out of there.”

Spike laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “And I said you were welcome here at any time. I meant it.” He sat the boy down on the couch and watched as Buffy came into the room. Their eyes met, and she could see the anger he just barely had a hold on.

“I’ll get some ice.” She went into the kitchen and got the ice she needed, furious. She wanted to go over and beat that man to a bloody pulp, and she knew Spike wanted to do the same, but they were adults, and they were supposed to be responsible ones, at that. Sometimes being responsible sucked.

She sat down next to Simon and gave him the ice she’d wrapped in a towel. “This should help with the bruising,” she said. “I should know.”

He gave her a wry look. “Thanks,” he muttered against the ice pack. “I don’t want you guys to get into trouble, but my step-dad was on a major rampage tonight. Mom pretty much told me to get out of the house.”

Both Buffy and Spike’s jaws tensed. It was a good thing that Simon had been able to come to them, and that he lived nearby. Chasing a kid out of the house after dark in Sunnydale was akin to attempted murder. Sensing their anger, he tried to smile. “I had my stake with me.”

“Bloody hell,” Spike muttered, and walked away, his back stiff.

“I’m really sorry,” Simon repeated.

“Sweetheart, it’s not your fault,” Buffy assured him. “We’re not mad at you. Spike’s just trying very hard to not go over and kill your step-father at the moment.”

As though her words had pulled him out of a trance, Spike turned to face Simon and Buffy. “Alright. Simon, you’ll stay here tonight. We can put you up on the couch without any trouble. But tomorrow morning, I want you to call your mum, tell her you stayed with some friends. If she asks who, tell her the truth, but don’t give out any more information than you have to. Then, when you go to school, you go tell the nurse what happened. If you feel like you’re getting in over your head and need to call someone, you call me.”

Simon looked confused. “Then what?”

Spike looked grim. “To be honest, I don’t know, but I can sound impressive, and I can be on your side. We’ll take care of things from there, play it by ear, like.” He looked at him with compassion. “How long has this been goin’ on, Blue Boy?”

Simon ducked his head slightly. “Pretty much since my mom married him, I guess when I was 12. He just doesn’t like kids all that much, and he really didn’t like me. He hasn’t hit me for a while now, not since this summer, but he was pissed off about something his boss said to him, and kind of took it out on me.”

Spike nodded slowly, his limbs feeling heavy. He’d been on the receiving end of that kind of beating before, handed out for his own good, to make him a better vampire. He wondered what his grandsire would think if he saw him now. “I know, lad.”

Buffy looked over at him in surprise. She could tell by his voice that he did know, and she had a feeling she knew where he’d gotten that kind of information. It sickened her to think about it. “Let me go get you some sheets and stuff,” she said quickly, letting Spike take over as he spoke to Simon in low, comforting tones. He’d always been good at that, she realized, making people feel okay. Or, at least when he was a vampire, he’d been really good at it with her and Dawn. Apparently, when he became human, that capacity stretched to include everyone else as well. She realized with a startling suddenness that he would make a really good father, and even though her middle gave a twinge of anxiety at that thought, her heart did a little dance for joy.

Later, once they’d gotten Simon bedded down on the couch, they went back to bed, grateful that Dawn had managed to sleep through the commotion. “We can’t keep him, you know,” Buffy whispered quietly.

“You’re talkin’ like we picked him up from the pound, luv,” Spike replied lightly, but then sighed as he grew serious. “I know, pet. Even if the social nazis let us take him, it wouldn’t be fair to Dawn or Simon.”

“Mmm. Telling them not to sleep together, while living under the same roof, while we’re doing it right under their noses, would be just a little hypocritical,” Buffy agreed.

“Simon wouldn’t touch her,” Spike said with more assurance than Buffy felt was warranted.

“And you know this how?”

“Because we’ve spoken. He understands what happens if she gets hurt.” Spike paused. “Have you talked to Dawn?”

Buffy hesitated. “Well, we discussed what happens when you sleep with someone, namely that if it doesn’t work out the pain level is magnified about 1000 times. And, if she wants to avoid mistakes like mine, that would be one to start with.”

Spike chuckled. “That’s one way to look at it. What did the Bit have to say to that?”

“She said that they’d talked about it and had decided to wait for a while, if only because they both feel as though they’re too young to be playing house.” Buffy smiled reflectively. “She also made some comment to the effect that she was already avoiding my mistakes by not dating a member of the undead or a soldier working for a secret government agency.”

“Point,” he said.

“So what are you going to do tomorrow?” Buffy asked.

Spike hesitated. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure Blue Boy gets a fair deal. That’s all I can do.”

Dawn had been surprised to see Simon on the couch when she came downstairs that morning. She’d been furious with Dick the Dork, and had fussed over his bruise in such a way that made both Buffy and Spike hide smirks. She sat next to him as he phoned his mom.

“Hey, Mom.” He waited a minute. “Yeah, I’m with friends. I’m okay…Oh…No, I understand, really…It’s okay, I can have William drive me over there, and we can pick some stuff up…No, I get it…It’s better this way…I’ll see you later, while he’s at work…bye.”

When he looked up at Dawn, his eyes were blank with misery. “She says it’s better if I don’t come home. She thinks it would be okay if I grab some stuff this afternoon while Dick’s gone.”

She didn’t say anything in reply, just moved to hug him. They stood that way for a long time. “It’ll be okay,” Dawn assured him finally.

He shook his head. “I know, but—”

“Hey,” she replied. “We’ve stopped like a hundred apocalypses. We can work this out.”

“Yeah, I guess this isn’t really the end of the world is it?” Simon put a tired hand up to his bruised face. “It’s just the end of mine,” he whispered, so quietly that no one heard.

Chapter 12: Secrets Revealed

“the great advantage of being alive/(instead of undying)is not so much/that mind no more can disprove than prove/what heart may feel and soul may touch/--the great(my darling) happens to be/that love are in we,that love are in we…a billion brains may coax undeath/ from fancied fact and spaceful time--/no heart can leap,no soul can breathe/but by the sizeless truth of a dream/whose sleep is the sky and the earth and the sea./For love are in you am in I are in we” ~e.e. cummings

Spike drove Simon and Dawn to school that morning. Looking over at the boy, he asked, “You gonna be alright, then?”

“Yeah. I’ve got your work number if I need anything.” Simon tried to smile, but his face hurt. Not to mention his heart.

Spike gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder in reply, and drove away as soon as they got out. “Do you want me to see the nurse with you?” Dawn asked, hanging onto his hand.

Simon looked over at her. “Would you?” he asked, gratefully.

“Sure, you know I will.” She walked him to the nurse’s office, where he explained what had happened in as few details as possible.

Nurse Avery nodded. “Well, it looks painful. Do you need anything for it? We don’t usually give out medicines, but I think this time we might make an exception.”

“No, that’s okay. Dawn’s sister gave me some stuff,” he replied.

The nurse nodded. “Well, I’ll need to talk to the principal, and he’ll probably make a few phone calls. If you feel up to going to class, we can come get you when we need you.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m really okay. Just looks bad, you know?” Dawn stayed with him until they reached his first period class, since hers was down the hall.

“Don’t be afraid to come and get me if you need to get out of here,” she whispered to him. “I’ll have you know I’m an expert on ditching.”

“Your sister will say I’ve been a bad influence,” he said, a real smile quirking up one side of his lips.

“Not a chance. Trust me, there are a lot of other people who are a much worse influence than you are,” Dawn smiled, giving him a long kiss.

“Well, of course you’ll need to go if Simon calls,” Liz said reasonably. “I’m guessing you and Buffy already talked about his staying at your house.”

Spike shook his head. “Talked and agreed that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Might not even be possible. Social services has just now gotten off Buffy’s back about Dawn. Adding the Bit’s boyfriend to the household might not be the best idea we’ve ever had.”

Liz smiled. “I could see how you might feel that way. What will you do?”

He hesitated. “Looked into this kind of thing that summer Buffy was gone. He’s too old for foster care, they’ll dump him as soon as he turns 18, and that’s no good. He can’t go home, his mum doesn’t want him there, and his step-dad shouldn’t be near him. Best thing would be to get him emancipated, but that means makin’ sure he has a place to live, that sort of thing. Buffy and I, we can watch out for him, but we can’t give him everything he needs right now.”

“Perhaps you can’t, but I know someone who can.”

He looked at her in surprise. “You aren’t serious.”

“Of course I am,” Liz replied. “William, I’ve been putting lost boys and girls back together for as long as I’ve been teaching, and that’s quite a while. I have an extra room, and I met Simon at your house at Christmas. Granted, it was brief, but he seemed like quite a nice young man, and I trust your judgment.”

Spike ran his hand through thick curls and thought for a moment. “I could call the school, see what they’ve already done. Propose this as a solution, provided that Simon agrees to it. I imagine they’re scratching their collective backsides trying to figure out what they want to do right now. This might just be the thing.”

Buffy sat on the exam table, swinging her feet nervously. She was getting a little tired of throwing up every day and had finally decided to see the doctor. She hadn’t told Spike because she didn’t want to worry him and figured he’d want to come along; he had enough on his plate with Simon as it was.

Dr. Hansen let herself back into the room and smiled. “I’ve looked over your chart, and everything seems normal. We’ll want to do a pregnancy test on the urine sample you gave us, but that shouldn’t take too long.”

“A pregnancy test?” Buffy asked, surprised.

The doctor nodded. “Well, yes, that is standard for women your age complaining of morning nausea. Plus, you also mentioned that you’ve missed at least one menstrual period. It sounds to me as though you might be pregnant. Why?”

Buffy opened her mouth to tell the doctor that it was impossible for her to be pregnant. And then she realized that it was entirely too possible. Spike may have been a vampire a couple years ago and incapable of becoming a “daddy,” but that wasn’t the case any longer. Neither one of them had even thought about a possible pregnancy. “Oh, I just hadn’t really thought of that,” she said weakly.

“Is that a problem for you, Buffy?” Dr. Hansen asked. “Because if it is…” she trailed off, knowing that a young, unmarried woman might indeed have a problem being pregnant.

Buffy hesitated. ‘Is it a problem?’ she wondered. Maybe it should have been, but she’d never thought to even have the chance at having kids, and now the opportunity was being given. With Spike, no less. Angel would have a whole herd of cattle if he knew, but Buffy decided that there wasn’t any problem at all. “No,” she replied finally, a smile spreading slowly across her face. “No, in fact, it’s great.”

Simon watched as one of the student aids came into Mr. Henry’s fourth period history class. He knew it was for him just by the way the kid glanced at him as he walked into the room, and he slowly shut his book and got his papers together. “Call me when you can,” Dawn whispered from the seat in front of him, giving his hand a quick squeeze for support as Mr. Henry called out, “Simon, you’re wanted in the teacher’s lounge.”

He walked out into the hall, fingering the cross he wore, a Christmas gift from Buffy and Spike. “If you’re going to be playing regularly at the Bronze, you need to carry protection,” Buffy had said, blushing when she realized what that had sounded like as Spike snickered. They’d given him a stake too, and Spike had shown him how to use it, while Buffy and Dawn watched, yelling pointers. Somehow, knowing that they were there, somewhere in the background, made this whole thing easier. He’d always done it alone before.

The door to the lounge opened easily, and relief spread through him as he realized that Spike was already there. Principal Drake was there, as was a woman he’d never seen before, and another, older lady Simon recognized from Christmas. ‘Liz,’ he thought, ‘Spike’s boss.’

“Simon, please have a seat,” the principal said, waving to a chair next to Spike. He sat obediently, waiting. “Mr. Benton here has been telling us what he knows of the situation. It is my understanding that you are fairly close to the Summers.”

Simon nodded. “Dawn’s my girlfriend,” he explained. “Buffy and Sp-William have been really great to me.”

The unknown lady smiled at him. “My name is Dara Ephraim, Simon, and I work with Social Services. Mr. Drake called me this morning. When Mr. Benton called, we had a quick conference. It’s my understanding that your mother believes that it would be safer for you to find another place to live at the moment.”

Spike’s cool voice broke in. “Safer, bollocks. If that—man had done the damage to anyone other than Simon, he’d be in jail right now for assault.”

His British accent was much more clipped and higher class than it usually was, Simon noted. Plus, the glasses he never wore for anything but reading were perched on his nose, making him look extremely refined and very upper class. The guy who spent his weekends in a pair of old black jeans and a ratty t-shirt was completely gone, except for the glint in his eyes. That glint matched the leather duster he sometimes wore.

“I do understand your feelings, Mr. Benton,” Darcy assured him. “I assure you, we are looking into the matter. As of right now, however, I tend to agree with his mother.” She turned to Simon. “What Mr. Benton has proposed is that you file for status as an emancipated minor, which would remove you from underneath your parents’ control. It would also remove their responsibility for you.”

“So I wouldn’t have to go home?” Simon asked.

“Yes,” she said kindly. “It would also mean that you would not be remanded to the custody of the state. Normally, we would ask for some assurance that you would be able to take care of yourself or had somewhere to go, especially since you’re still in school. However, Dr. Kearns has offered to allow you to stay with her until you graduate high school. You would still be responsible for yourself, but I would feel better knowing someone is looking out for your interests.”

Simon opened his mouth to reply and couldn’t find the words. He turned to Liz who was smiling at him. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted. “That’s great, I just—”

Ms. Ephraim smiled. “Then the plan sounds feasible to you?”

He nodded. “It’s better than I was expecting.”

“Good. I should be off, I have another appointment in a little while.” She reached out and shook his hand. “I have both Dr. Kearns and Mr. Benton’s phone numbers, so I’ll let you know when your petition will be heard. I have no doubt that the judge will grant it, however. I’ll be talking to you soon.”

Principal Drake stood as well. “I’ll let you three talk and settle matters.” He looked over at Simon. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day to get yourself settled, Simon? I know this has been a rough day for you.” When the boy nodded, he shook Spike and Liz’s hands and left.

“William has already told me that he was going to help you collect your things,” Liz said kindly. “Once you do that you can bring them over to my house and get yourself settled.”

Simon looked over at her gratefully. “I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

She smiled. “I imagine it will take a bit of getting used to for the both of us, but I don’t foresee any problems. We can discuss any questions you have and any expectations later.”

Simon nodded. “Thanks.”

“Well then, William, I’ll expect you two shortly,” Liz said, standing. After she’d left Simon looked over at Spike.

“How—”

“I did some looking into these kinds of things a while back. This seemed like the best solution to your problem,” Spike explained quietly.

The boy shook his head. He was trying to find words that would explain how he felt, and couldn’t. He’d wanted to get out of that house for the longest time, and now he was out and it didn’t feel at all like he’d expected. To his shame, he started crying, soft, gut-wrenching sobs tearing out of throat. He wanted to apologize for being weak, but he couldn’t find the words for that either. The only things that registered were his own tears and a pair of strong arms wrapped around him.

“Hey, Buffy,” Willow said from the front porch.

“Willow,” the Slayer replied, opening the door to let her friend in. “It’s been a while.”

She hadn’t seen much of her friends since school had started. It seemed as though they were beginning to drift apart even more than they had after they’d first left high school. Xander and Anya were busy getting their lives on the right track with each other, the Wicca was busy trying to finish school, and Buffy was just trying to figure out what a semi-normal life looked like. Without the threat of an apocalypse hanging overhead, it was easy to get involved in the little, every day matters that seemed to separate them out into their different lives. “I know. I needed to talk to you about something.”

Buffy let her friend inside, and they went into the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”

Willow shrugged. “Whatever you’ve got would be fine.”

Buffy started the water for tea, knowing that her friend had developed a taste for it while in England. “What’s on your mind?”

“My hair,” Willow said with a small smile, and was rewarded with a chuckle from her friend. “I needed to tell you that I was offered a scholarship to study at Cambridge,” she confessed.

Buffy turned to her in surprise, noting that Willow looked apprehensive over her reaction, which told the Slayer everything she needed to know about her answer. Swallowing whatever selfishness might have caused her to hold her friend back, she replied, “You’re going, of course.”

Willow broke out into a huge smile. “Yeah, I am. It’s an incredible opportunity, Buffy. I never thought I’d get to do something like this.” She paused. “I hate leaving you and Xander and Dawn and Spike and pretty much everyone else, though.”

“I know, and I hate that you’re leaving, Will, but it had to happen sometime.” Buffy gave her a hug. “Have you told Xander or Anya yet?”

“No,” the redhead admitted. “Spike was the first person I told, actually,” she said, taking in Buffy’s surprise. “I knew he’d give me an honest opinion, so I thought I’d ask him if I should take it. Plus, he’s on campus a lot and I visit him.”

Buffy thought about it for a moment, and then said, “I’m not that surprised, Will. Spike’s an easy guy to talk to. Apparently he’s turned into the go-to guy.” She then explained briefly about Simon and the previous night.

Willow shook her head in sympathy at the story. “Poor kid. And we all thought Xander’s parents were bad.”

“Yeah, turns out there are worse people out there,” Buffy replied.

Willow looked at her friend with some concern. “Are you okay, Buff? Spike told me the other day that you hadn’t been feeling well.”

She hesitated. Spike should really be the first one to know of her suspicions, but Willow was her best friend, and she didn’t want to hide anything from her, especially since she had just spilled her own secret. “I think I’m pregnant,” she replied.

Willow’s eyes widened and she squealed in surprise. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” Buffy admitted. “The nausea is one thing, but I’ve missed a period, and I think I’m late for my next one too.”

Willow made a face. “Well, that would be a pretty clear indication. Does Spike know?”

She shook her head. “I just went to the doctor today, and I won’t know for sure until they call with the results, probably tomorrow. I figured since you were being all reveal-y, I might as well too.”

“You show me yours, I’ll show you mine?” Willow commented, smiling. “Are you okay with this?”

She hesitated. “Yeah, I think so. It’s not ideal, I know. Ideal would be the white dress, the wedding march, my father walking me down the aisle, and a baby nine months after the honeymoon. Ideal would be my mom being alive, and me not being the Slayer, too, but I’ve already accepted that life isn’t perfect.”

Willow gave her a sympathetic look. “But you’re okay with this?”

“With being pregnant with Spike’s baby?” Buffy asked, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, I am. I love him, Willow, more than I ever thought I could again. This one is forever. God knows he’s not going to leave me, which is more than I can say for every other guy I’ve ever gone out with. I never thought I’d get to do this, you know? And now I have the chance to have my own family.”

Willow gave her a hug. “I’m so happy for you, Buffy. What’s Spike going to think?”

Buffy hesitated. “I think he’ll be thrilled, but it’s hard to know.”

“I think he’ll be more than thrilled,” Willow replied. “In fact, he might even be speechless, which will be a switch.”

Simon set his duffel bag down in Liz’s spare room. “You’re welcome to make whatever changes you’d like,” she offered.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“William told me you play the guitar?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, my music stuff’s at Rod’s house. We practice there.”

“You certainly can practice here if you need to,” Liz said quietly. “I know you play at the Bronze fairly regularly,” she smiled at his surprised look. “I do work with college students, Simon, so I know a bit about kids your age. All I ask is that you let me know where you’re going to be so I don’t worry. Other than that, we can work things out as we go.”

“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said honestly.

She smiled and touched him on the shoulder. “Be happy. That’s thanks enough.”

Spike came up behind Liz and swung his arm around Simon’s shoulders. “We’re off, luv. “I’ll have him back by bedtime.”

She smiled. “Have fun,” she replied, handing Simon a key on a chain. “This old lady probably won’t stay up.”

Spike grinned. “You’ll never be an old lady,” he replied. “Come on, Blue Boy.” He handed Simon his cell phone as soon as they walked out the door. “Better call the house and leave a message, lad. Tell the girls we’ll be home for dinner.”

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace quiet.”

Spike took him to the beach, but to an area that had little traffic. It took some work, getting down the steep path that led down to the sand, but the physical exertion required his full attention, and it felt good to work his muscles. In a way, he could lose himself in the climb down the same way he could in his music. Both of them took their shoes off and rolled up their pantlegs once they’d reached the sand, and then, in silence they began walking along the water. “Why?” Simon finally asked.

Spike didn’t pretend not to understand what the boy was asking. “Dawn told you what I was,” he replied softly.

Simon hesitated. “She said you were a vampire and you’d gone to Africa and got turned back into a human.” As though it had just occurred to him, he asked, “How old are you, anyway?”

Spike smirked. “About 150. My grand-sire’s got about a hundred years on me, though.” He looked over at Simon and his face became serious. “I’ve never told anyone this, but I thought you needed to hear it.” Slowly, he told Simon what had happened after he’d been turned, how he’d gone back to turn his mother, to give her the gift of immortality, and how she’d rejected him outright. “She was my world,” he said simply. “Buffy knows that I turned her, and that I killed her after, but I never told her what she said.”

It was different, Simon knew. For one thing, his mom wasn’t the evil undead. But it was also the same, because the pain was there for the both of them. “Does it ever hurt less?”

Spike frowned, looking up at the deep blue sky. “Yeah. After a while, you realize that it wasn’t you, it was them or the circumstances or whatever. And you figure other people love you, and they’re enough. But it hurts.”

“When Dad took off, I thought that would be the worst,” Simon confessed. “But then, when Mom asked me not to come home—I never thought she’d choose Dick over me.”

The older man reached over to grasp his shoulder. “She should have chosen you, Simon. She should have chosen you the first time he raised his hand. Just remember, her choices don’t determine yours. I forgot that for a while, and it wasn’t good.”

“I get that,” he replied. “I still don’t get why, though.”

Spike smiled. “Because of what I was.”

Simon considered his answer, and understanding dawned on his face. He gave Spike a half-smile in return and replied, “Or maybe it’s because of what you are.”

Dawn sat on the back porch, her head resting against her boyfriend’s chest. “I wish you’d told me how bad it was,” she murmured. “I get why you didn’t, but I wish you had.”

“I know, I just—”

“I get it. Once you’ve got that secret, it gets harder to let it go after a while.” Dawn remembered being told she was the Key, how heavy the secret had been. How tightly she’d had to hold the secret of Buffy’s death. How heavy the secret of her stealing had been.

“Basically,” Simon confessed. “And I thought it was getting better, you know, since I was there a lot less.”

They sat in silence for a long time. “I love you, you know,” Simon said quietly. “If you hadn’t been here all this year, I don’t know what I would have done. Probably something really stupid though.”

“Ditto,” Dawn replied. “I mean, I love you. And I think I need you just as much.”

“Will it always be like this?” he asked her.

Dawn thought about it for a minute, and then said honestly, “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“No,” he said. “I’d love you all the same.”

She smiled and leaned her head back against him, closing her eyes contentedly. “Me too.”

Spike stared at Buffy with a mixture of shock and amazement. “Are you sure?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know, if people keep asking me that, I’m going to get really annoyed.” Sighing, she replied, “About as sure as I can be until the doctor sends her results.”

“How?” he asked.

Buffy giggled. “Do you really have to ask, Spike?”

A shame-faced grin spread across his face. “Guess not. Bloody hell, I probably should have thought about it before now, but I’d never had to worry about that kind of thing before.”

She frowned. “What about before you were turned?” The look he gave her made her eyes widen, and she blushed slightly. “You mean, you never—before—”

“Nope.” He smirked. “Technically, luv, you were my first. As a human anyway.”

Buffy was oddly touched. “So you’re okay with becoming a father?”

The look on his face was hesitant, almost wary. “Are you okay with this, Buffy? Because if you aren’t—”

“Spike. William. Look at me.” She turned his head so he was looking her in the eyes. “Tell me the truth.”

He opened his mouth, hesitated again, and then finally managed to get the words out. “I’m bloody terrified, pet. And I’m ecstatic. But if this isn’t what you wanted, it’s your choice.”

She leaned in and kissed him. Hard. “Does that tell you if I’m okay with it?” she asked, smiling. “Spike, I never thought I’d live long enough to have kids. And now I’m having yours. I’m scared too, but I told you that I needed every part of you. And this—” she put her hand to her still-flat abdomen. “This is a part of you too. I’m not going anywhere, William, and neither is our baby.”

He lay his lips against her hand that still rested on her stomach. “I love you so much, Buffy.”

“I know,” she said. She kissed him again. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how much time we have. I think my expiration date is already long past, but whatever time I have, it’s yours.”

And there were no more words for a very long time.

Chapter 13: With You Here

“There’s a kind of emptiness that can fill you./There’s a kind of hunger that can eat you up./There’s a cold and darker side to the moonlight./And there’s a lonely side of love./With you here, baby I am strong./No sign of weakness./With you gone, baby, I am hanging by a thread./There’s a certain kind of pain that can numb you./There’s a type of freedom that can tie you down./Sometimes the unexplained can define you./And sometimes silence is the only sound./With you here, baby, I am strong./No sign of weakness./With you gone, baby, I am hanging by a thread.” ~Nickel Creek

“Hey, man. Congratulations.” Xander reached out to shake Spike’s hand as he came in the door.

“What for?” Spike asked with a smirk. “For makin’ it through another year or for bein’ a few months away from bein’ a dad?”

“Both,” the other man replied, slapping him on the back. “Nice to know you’re finally getting older just like the rest of us.”

Anya stepped inside behind him. “Yes. Aging is an important part of the human experience.”

Spike’s lips twitched. “Thanks, Anya. I think they’re puttin’ the food in the kitchen.” He watched as the ex-demon slipped past to join the others in the kitchen. “I take it you two are working things out.”

Xander nodded sheepishly. “Yeah. Hopefully, the second time’s the charm. We’re thinking about taking notes from you and Buffy and just take things slow.”

“Good plan.” Spike hesitated, and then said, “We were going to talk to you later, but now’s as good a time as any.”

Xander looked slightly suspicious. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Professor. With the number of serious announcements that have been made in the last couple weeks, I don’t think my heart could take it.”

Spike raised an eyebrow and led Xander into the living room. “Buffy and I wanted to ask you and Willow to be godparents. We’d have asked the Watcher, but seeing as how he’s in England, we thought we’d ask someone who’s a bit closer to home.”

The other man was floored. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. “Spike, I’m honored.”

He shrugged. “Well, you know Buffy’s always considered you part of the family. This just makes it official-like.”

“You know you’re part of the family too, Spike,” Xander replied, meeting his eyes forthrightly. “I never thought I’d say it, but it’s been nice to have you around. You and Buffy are good together.”

An incredulous smile spread across Spike’s face as he realized he didn’t hate the Whelp quite as much as he always thought he had. “So we’re good?”

Xander reached out and took Spike’s offered hand with a firm grip. “We’re good.”

It was a kind of multi-purpose party. Willow wasn’t leaving for England until the end of the summer, so it wasn’t a good-bye party, but it was a “congratulations for getting a scholarship and getting out of Sunnydale” thing. Plus, Buffy had finally figured out when Spike’s birthday was, and she was throwing him the first party he’d had in over a century. Add to that the fact that Buffy had announced to the whole gang that she was pregnant, so it was also a “congratulations on your upcoming birth” celebration. In reality, however, the major focus was on Spike, as much as he would have liked to deflect it. Truth was, Spike wasn’t used to this kind of attention, the good kind.

Nevertheless, Buffy had insisted on a real birthday party, complete with cake and his favorite foods, including a blooming onion and spicy wings. While she’d offered to invite anyone he wished, the only person from UC Sunnydale he’d insisted on was Liz. “Be nicer with just family, luv,” he’d said. “Though I wish you wouldn’t make a fuss.”

Buffy had just rolled her eyes. “Spike, you ‘make a fuss’ over people you care about. That’s just the way it works, and you’ll have to get used to it.”

The afternoon was fairly low-key, just the main group really, though Spike got suspiciously misty-eyed when the presents came out. He still really wasn’t used to being a part of things. Dawn and Simon had chipped in and gotten him a leather-bound copy of The Complete Works of Shakespeare. Giles sent some ancient manuscript over from England that Spike got excited about, but no one but Willow understood the significance. Xander (and Anya’s) present was a wooden weapons chest similar to Buffy’s, but with the initials “W.S.B.” carved on the top. Liz’s gift was an envelope with an invitation from the university to a spot as Associate Professor, with the stipulation that he continue to pursue his Ph.D. Spike was pretty much speechless after that, and Liz looked incredibly smug.

The last gift was from Buffy. She set the large box down in front of him and waited as he opened it, curious. He pulled off the last of the paper and opened the box, regarding the object within in a sort of stunned amazement. After a moment’s silence, he lifted it out of the box, revealing a black jacket. It was much shorter than his duster, only about waist-length, and was a nylon fabric. Buffy leaned over and pointed to the back and sleeves. “It’s a motorcycle jacket,” she explained, “so the back and sleeves have extra padding. Kind of an armor you know. The guy said it was pretty much indestructable.”

Spike knew what she was saying without words. They were both moving on, putting the past behind them. She’d given the duster back to him because it was a part of who he had been, and it always would be. But this jacket was meant for now, for the nights when he would be watching her back, and for the upcoming months when he might have to patrol alone, and needed a little extra protection. He smiled at her, and swung the jacket on over his shoulders.

It was like a hand in glove, and it still added an edge to his appearance. Not the same look as the duster at all, but there was still that gleam in his eye that spoke of danger, and the jacket just enhanced it. “I love it, Buffy,” he said softly, and she smiled.

“Now all you’re missing is the motorcycle,” Xander piped up, and as Buffy and Spike’s eyes met, they both realized they were thinking the same thing.

“That’s not missing, Harris,” Spike said evenly, not looking away from Buffy. “It’s just in storage.”

They seemed to fly over roads and highways, bareheaded, her hands tight at his waist, her thighs pressed up against his. It was an intimate position, but neither of them minded. Quite the contrary, in fact. The night had been made for them, and they for the night. He took her to a place he knew, a small, out-of-the-way cove along the shore. The full moon reflected off the sand and the water so that the darkness seemed less profound, even though they were far from any city lights.

They lay on their backs on the sand, their hands entwined until Buffy broke the silence. “Good day?”

He turned his head to face her, and she could see his teeth gleam white. “The best. If it were possible I’d be in danger of dying from happiness, luv.”

“Don’t joke about it.”

Spike frowned at the fierceness of her tone and sat up. “About what, pet?”

“Dying,” she replied angrily. “I can’t lose you, Spike.”

He gave her a confused smile. “I’m not planning on going anywhere, Buffy. You know that. It was just an _expression.” Spike reached out to touch her cheek tenderly.

“You know how I feel about you, right?” she asked.

His face softened. “I know. And it’s okay, Buffy. What we have is enough for me, more than I ever dreamed of having.”

Buffy looked into his eyes and knew that he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand that she loved him so much, she couldn’t tell him, and yet she had to try. Something about it being his birthday, him turning a year older, had jarred something loose inside her. It had reminded her that he was mortal, and much more fragile than she. “Tell me you love me.”

The softness left his face and fear set in. The last time they had had this conversation, it had not ended well. And Buffy wanted to chase that fear away, for good. She watched as he took a deep breath and replied, “I love you.”

“Tell me you want me.”

“I always want you.”

She reached out and touched his cheek. “Tell me you’ll never leave me.”

It was a deviation from the established script, and a spark of hope kindled in Spike’s eyes. The first time around he’d hoped it would be different too, but this time there was something in her face that had never been there before. “You know I won’t.”

Buffy took his hand. “Now, ask me.”

“Buffy, I—”

“Just ask, William.”

“Tell me you want me,” he whispered.

She smiled. “I always want you.”

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.” His voice was barely audible.

“I’ll never leave you.”

He cupped her face with his hands, eyes boring into hers. “Tell me you love me, Buffy.” He was almost begging.

She leaned in and kissed him sweetly. “I love you, Spike.”

He seemed to collapse, his head falling limply against her shirt, and Buffy couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since he’d heard those words. “I love you,” she said again, and they came easier the second time around.

He pulled back and swiped at his eyes, embarrassed. “Oh, luv,” he whispered. “I think I’ve waited forever.”

They made love under the moon, and then went swimming, laughing and splashing each other like children, beautiful in the soft light. As they sat on the sand, drying off, waiting to head home, Buffy looked over at her lover and smiled. “Have you thought about names yet?”

“For the baby?” he asked, waiting for her nod. “Well, not sure if it’s a boy, pet, but if it’s a girl, I wouldn’t mind namin’ her after your mum.”

Buffy smiled as her eyes grew misty. “Thank you, Spike. Actually, I wasn’t sure about a girl’s name, but if it’s a boy, I’d like William.”

“Absolutely not. There’s no way my son’s goin’ to be a bloody fourth. It’s ridiculous.”

She started giggling, both at the look on his face and at his completely affronted tone of voice. “You were a third?”

He sighed, a deeply put-upon sound. “William Edward Bradford III.”

“Well,” Buffy coaxed, “technically, he wouldn’t be a fourth, since his last name wouldn’t be Bradford, and there’s no way his middle name would be Edward.”

“We’ll see,” he replied, in a way that told her he wasn’t at all convinced.

“We could call him Liam,” she wheedled.

He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. “You do know whose name that is, don’t you, Slayer?”

“It would be a shorter name than yours.”

“It’s Angel’s name.”

Buffy feigned surprise. “You and Angel had the same name?”

He growled, but knew that Buffy would probably get her way at some point. “I’ll think about it. There’s plenty of time yet.”

Dawn came out to join Spike on the porch. “Hey.”

“Hey, Bit,” he replied. “Your sister still out?”

She nodded, looking out into the darkness. “Are you feeling any better?”

Spike had had the beginnings of a very nasty cold all evening, and Buffy had made him stay home while she went out on patrol, fearing that the malaria could come back again. “No, but I wanted some air.” They stood in silence for a while longer, and then Spike asked, “Are you okay with all this, Bit?”

“With you and Buffy having a baby?” she asked. “Yeah, I think it’s cool.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice hopeful. “Don’t want you feelin’ like you aren’t important to us, Niblet, ‘cause you are.”

“I know,” she replied. “I don’t think I would have gotten that a few years ago, but I do now. It’s not moving me out, it’s just adding more people. Kind of like you and Buffy have added Simon.”

“Somethin’ like that, I s’pose.” He pulled her into a hug. “You’re growin’ up fast, Bit.” Dawn leaned into his embrace. There was safety with Spike, a safety she would find with others as she continued to get older, but that she would always have with him.

Suddenly he froze, and pushed her away, back towards the door to the house. “Get inside, Bit, and get your sister.”

“Spike—”

“Go!” She saw a figure emerge from the darkness, and saw the figure of a woman. “Dru, what are you doing here?”

That was all she needed to hear. Dawn ran into the house, and immediately went out the front door. Buffy never took her cell phone with her on patrol because she said it was distracting and she had a tendency to lose it in cemetaries. She’d just have to find her somehow, preferably before Spike was dead. Or worse.

This was bad. This was very bad. Spike knew Drusilla like the back of his hand, and right now she wanted him back. Either that or she wanted to hurt Buffy, which at the moment was the same thing. The thing he had been most afraid of since becoming human was that Dru would show up again, that he would be turned, and there would be nothing left of the man he had become.

“Hello, my Spike,” Drusilla said. “Did you miss me?”

“Can’t say that I did, Dru,” he replied honestly.

“Bad Spike, doesn’t love me anymore.”

“To be fair, you were the one who left me, ducks,” he replied evenly.

She stepped closer, smiling her mad smile. “But I came back, my Spike. The pixies told me you were weak, and I’ve come to make you strong again.”

Spike smiled in return. “I don’t think so.”

It might as well have been a battle cry.

Dawn was only about a block away when she ran right into Simon’s chest. “Dawn! What’s wrong?” he asked, grabbing her arms to keep her upright.

“It’s Spike. Drusilla came back, and I need to find Buffy.” She was panting with fear and exertion, trying to twist away from her boyfriend.

He gave her a little shake. “Where is she?”

“On patrol,” she replied, shaking her head.

Simon took her arm and started pulling her back towards the house. “Then we don’t have time. If Spike’s in trouble, we need to help him.”

Dawn opened her mouth to argue, and then realized he was right. Buffy wouldn’t be able to get to them in time. She might not have had a chance going up against the crazy vampire, but she and Simon together might manage to put a stake through her. “Right. You go through the backyard and distract her. I’ll go through the house and come out the back door. Once she’s looking your way, I’ll come out and stake her.”

“I was just going to suggest that,” Simon said, with a nervous smile. “You’re a lot better at hitting the heart than I am.”

Dawn watched as Simon went around the back of the house as she went inside. She was scared, mostly because Spike had pretty much freaked out when Drusilla showed up. Anything that frightened Spike was very scary. Drusilla was a Master vampire, and perfectly capable of taking out both her and Simon with her eyes closed. Unless they got very lucky.

She watched out the back door as Simon stepped out into the yard and faced the vampire with a defiant tilt of his chin. She loved him in that moment, more than she ever had before. “Hey, you crazy ho,” Simon called. “Drop the man and drop dead.”

Drusilla snarled at him. “Well, aren’t you the pretty parrot. Such colorful feathers.”

“Oh, you mean the hair?” Simon asked with a smirk, swaggering forward, doing a knowing imitation of Spike at his snarkiest. “Better than your dress. Where’d you pull that out of, the rag bag?”

Drusilla paused, suddenly considering the boy in a new light. “Aren’t you a brave knight?” she cooed. “My Spike didn’t want to play anymore, but you’ll be a good boy, won’t you?”

“Why don’t you come and find out?” he invited, his hand going back to the stake he’d shoved into the back of his jeans.

A cruel smile lit up her face. “We’ll make beautiful music together, my boy.”

She was inches away from him when her face changed, revealing the demon within. Simon never even flinched. He pulled the stake out of his waistband, and it met the tip of Dawn’s stake as it found the heart. There was a moment of surprise, and then Drusilla was gone, nothing but dust on the wind.

They both dropped their weapons in their haste to get to Spike’s side. He lay on the grass lifelessly, his face pale. Simon’s nimble fingers found his pulse, and he looked up at Dawn half in relief, half in concern. “Call the ambulance.”

“Is he—”

“Barely,” Simon replied quietly. “But you need to hurry.”

The ambulance arrived and they quickly loaded Spike up, Dawn giving a hasty explanation of a supposed animal attack as Simon scrawled a note for Buffy. The paramedics wouldn’t let both of them ride in the back, so they decided to drive. Simon grabbed Spike’s keys from where they sat on the kitchen counter.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” Dawn asked. “Spike taught me last summer.”

Her boyfriend looked over at her, and said softly, “I know. I got it, though.” He reached over and grabbed her hand. “He’ll be okay, Dawn. He’s one of the strongest people I know.”

“Yeah. He is,” she replied, and let him drive. She was thankful that her boyfriend was just as strong.

Buffy entered the hospital in a near-run, her heart pounding. She’d gotten home from patrol to find a hastily written note telling her that they’d had to take Spike to the hospital, and that Drusilla was dead. It was barely intelligible, but the words “Drusilla” and “hospital” together were never good.

She saw Simon and Dawn in the ER waiting room immediately, and she rushed over to them. “Are you two okay? What happened?”

Dawn quickly gave her a summary of what had occurred earlier. “The doctor said Spike had lost a lot of blood, but that he’d be okay. It was really close though.”

Buffy was still trying to process the fact that her baby sister and her boyfriend had taken on a Master vampire and won. “Are you two insane?” she asked.

They looked at each other in confusion. “Uh, no,” Dawn replied finally.

“You could have been killed! Drusilla’s killed a Slayer, and you two thought you could take her on.” Buffy’s voice shook. “If either of you ever, ever pull a stunt like that again, you will both be grounded for life. Do you understand?” Not even waiting for an answer, she pulled Dawn to her in a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

Dawn was a little overwhelmed with the mood swings, but she grinned. “Thanks. Simon was really cool though.”

Buffy turned to Simon, who was looked as though he was considering running away. “Simon, thank you.” She pulled him into a hug, and he looked surprised and happy as well.

“It wasn’t much,” he said sheepishly.

“Have you called anyone else?” Buffy asked.

“Crap,” he yelped. “I’ve gotta call Liz. She’ll be worried sick.”

He ran off and Buffy looked at her sister. “Where is he?”

Dawn hesitated. The doctor had been pretty clear on them not being able to see him yet, but she knew her sister. And her sister had on her “resolve” face. “Down the hall. I think I heard the nurses say something about him being in room 107.”

Buffy gave her sister another grateful smile and headed down the hallway. She found his room easily enough. His skin was as pale as the sheets he lay on, and only the rise and fall of his chest gave any indication that he was still alive. A transfusion bag hung from a pole, and the red liquid dripped steadily into his veins. Buffy found his renewed need for blood just slightly ironic.

She walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, looking down at him. His eyes fluttered open after a minute, and he looked up at her dazedly. “Buffy?”

“I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“She wanted me to drink, but I wouldn’t. I didn’t let her turn me.” He was still a little out of it, she saw, probably from whatever pain medication they had given him.

“I know, baby,” Buffy replied. “You did just fine.” She watched as he drifted off to sleep again, and sat by his side. After a while, Liz came. She checked on him to ensure that he was fine and then informed Buffy that she was taking Simon and Dawn back to her place. “Dawn can stay with me for tonight,” the kindly woman said. “I know she’d probably feel better if she’s not alone.”

Buffy smiled and thanked her, and stayed put. When Spike finally opened his eyes again, they were clear. “Buffy? Luv? How long have you been here?”

“A few hours,” she replied softly. “How are you feeling?”

He considered her question. “Good, I guess, for a guy who’s just been bit. What happened?”

“Dawn ran into Simon on her way to find me. They went back, he distracted the crazy bitch, and they both staked her at the same time.” Buffy managed to smile. “She assured me it was very cool.”

He smirked slightly. “Guess we taught ‘em well, Slayer.”

“You promised not to leave me, Spike,” Buffy whispered.

He looked surprised. “I’m still here, pet. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I almost lost you,” she said, the anguish and fear of nearly losing him showing clearly on her face. “Don’t ever do that again. I can’t be without you, Spike.”

“Sure you could, luv,” he said. “You’d manage somehow.”

“No,” she asserted. “I think losing you would kill me.”

Spike opened his mouth to protest, and then shut it again. She would make it, he knew, she was strong. But at the same time, her heart had been broken so many times, she might indeed find it hard to live through another. “You’d still have a piece of me,” he reminded her softly.

“Yeah,” she said. “But I need all of you.” She laid her head down on his chest. “I love you.”

“And I love you, pet.”

“Then let’s get married,” she said suddenly, sitting up.

“What?” he replied, startled.

“Let’s get married. I want to make it official. The last couple of years, I was pretty sure I’d never get to do that. Never get the white dress or the wedding march, any of it. I want every bit of what I can get, right now, with you.” She looked at him fiercely.

He blinked a couple times, and then said. “All right. Let’s do it. But can we avoid all the bloody fuss and bother? I don’t want it to be an ordeal.”

She smiled. “No, it’ll just be good. Fun, you know? For both of us.” She put her head back down, letting him stroke her hair. “I wish my mom were here. I think she’d be happy for us. She always liked you.”

“Really?” He smiled reflectively. “I liked her too. She was a good lady. A lot like her daughter.”

Buffy sighed softly. “I want forever with you, Spike. Just you.”

“Your wish is my command, luv. I’m all yours.”

Epilogue

“No longer mourn for me when I am dead/Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell/Give warning to the world that I am fled/From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:/Nay, if you read this line, remember not/The hand that writ it; for I love you so,/That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,/If thinking on me then should make you woe./Oh, if, (I say,) you look upon this verse/When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay,/Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,/But let your love even with my life decay;/Lest the wise world should look into your moan,/And mock you with me after I am gone.” ~William Shakespeare

It seemed that Buffy would get her wish, even if Spike never received his. He had promised her forever, and he hadn’t left her side. But Spike had never asked his Slayer to stay with him for always. He had known that it was a promise she would not have been able to keep. Perhaps he had always known, because it seemed that over the years he had built himself a living safety net for this day.

Giles stood next to him, his hair almost entirely gray at this point, his face deeply lined. If anything, the Watcher was even more devastated this time around than he had been the first. Spike was still trying to decide if it hurt more the first or the second time they’d buried her. In some ways, it was easier now. Made easier by over ten years and three little words. In other ways, it only made him miss her more.

He was in good company though, he knew. Not only was Giles there, but also Xander and Anya. They had chosen to leave their little one at home. He’d been born only a year or so after he and Buffy’s Joyce. He and Xander had actually become friends at some point along the way, maybe even good friends. Willow had come as well. She had remained single, the only one of the Scoobies to do so. What relationships she had tried had ended either sooner or later, but she had poured her time and her love out on all their families.

The service was over. Spike wasn’t sure why it had been so important to have a real burial service. He had been Anglican once upon a time, and so Buffy had had an Anglican service. The vicar had been both understanding and sympathetic, and had willingly decided to perform the graveside service. He and the rest of the Scoobies had held the wake.

The others began to drift off, back to their own homes, or to his. He felt a gentle hand on his arm and looked over to see Dawn. She was dry-eyed, having shed all her tears earlier. “We’re going back now. Are you going to stay?”

“Yeah, last night and all that.”

A small hand tugged at his. “Are you coming home, Papa?”

“In a while, moppet. I think I’ll stay here for a bit.” Spike touched his daughter’s fine hair. She looked like her mother—and her grandmother.

“You’re going to protect mummy’s grave from the bad men,” she stated in a sure tone. “It’s called Vigil. Willow told me.”

He smiled sadly at her. So quick, so perceptive. So precious. “Yeah, little luv. I’ll be home by morning.” He looked up at Simon, who held a sleeping Liam in his arms. Joyce was ten, old enough to understand what had happened, but little Liam was barely six. Spike breathed a prayer of thanks for Dawn and Simon, who had been there constantly, despite their own pain.

“Come back when you can, Will,” Simon said quietly. “We’ll watch over the kids.” It was hard to believe that Simon and Dawn had been together for almost as long and he and Buffy were. They had “taken a break” briefly after they’d graduated high school, mostly because they’d decided to go to different colleges. However, one semester had them both at UC Sunnydale, and they hadn’t been separated since. In fact, Dawn was due to have their first child in another few months. Buffy had wanted to be there for that.

Spike nodded shakily. “Thanks.”

He watched as they left, and then stood there as the sun set, memories of their time together flooding his mind. He remembered when she had told him she was pregnant with Liam. She’d insisted they were having a son, and then had insisted on calling him William, Liam for short. Nothing Spike had said could convince her otherwise, so he’d finally given in, rather ungraciously. So he’d been named William Alexander Benton.

The first time he’d held his son, he’d cried, as he had with their daughter. Buffy told him then, as any number of people had said to him later, that Liam was his spitting image. He’d never told anyone but Buffy that not only did his son look like him, he acted like him. At least, he acted the same way a very young William had, before life had broken him to pieces.

The way Spike had been broken, before Buffy put him back together.

“Hello, William.”

“Angel.”

The old vampire stepped out of the darkness to stand beside him at the fresh grave. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better. I haven’t killed myself or anyone else yet, though.” There was a pause, and then Spike said quietly, “I’m sorry we couldn’t have the funeral at night, so you could be here. Apparently, they don’t do that in Sunnyhell.”

Angel’s lips twitched at the old name. He still wasn’t terribly fond of Spike, but he’d grown used to him over the years. Buffy had told him about her and Spike not long after she’d become pregnant. He’d come down for the wedding, and then later after their first child had been born. He’d made himself scarce after that though. Losing Connor had made it that much more difficult to watch Spike with his own family, to know what he’d done, what he’d given up in order to have them. He had gone to the ends of the earth and beyond, and he had gotten his reward. Looking at the grave, however, made Angel wonder what kind of reward it had been, to have her, and then lose her. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Me too.”

“How did it happen?” he asked.

Spike hesitated, and then replied, “The kids needed a sitter and she wanted to go out on patrol. She told me to stay behind and watch them. She worried about me, y’know. Should have bloody well been with her.”

“Perhaps you both would be dead if you were,” Angel replied, offering absolution.

The two stood silently then for the longest time, as the moon rose and set and dawn stretched its thin fingers into the sky. Angel was about to announce his leaving when Spike spoke again. “We’re the last, you know.”

“The last what?” Angel asked, his tone faintly amused.

Spike turned to face him. “The last completely screwed up vampires,” he replied. Rolling his eyes, he amended, “The last of our family, you git.”

“Oh.” Angel wasn’t sure what to say in reply to that. He figured on coming to Sunnydale, saying his farewells, and never coming back. He didn’t have any thoughts of recovering any kind of family.

Spike’s hand was gentle on his arm, and Angel wasn’t sure he ever remembered them being gentle with one another. “It hurts, I know, to lose what you’ve always wanted and never really could have. But Buffy loved you, in her own way, you know.” He very nearly smiled at the shock on Angel’s face. Perhaps it was ten years and two kids with her that had enabled him to say that. “You haven’t met Liam yet. Why don’t you come back with me? Kids would love to see a friend of their mum’s.”

Angel stared at him. “You’ve changed.”

“She put me back together.”

Angel sighed and looked at the rapidly lightening sky. “She was like that.”

“C’mon, mate,” Spike said, putting an arm on his grandsire’s shoulder. “You can catch a few winks on the couch before the moppets are up to pester you.” As Spike led him back to the house on Revello Drive, he couldn’t help but realize that he was still doing what Liz had taught him, what Buffy had shown him, all those years ago. He was still putting people back together, still offering comfort. And he would continue to do so until he was dust beside Buffy. There were a lot of ways to save the world.

The End