The Hardest Thing in the World by Eowyn315
 
 
Chapter #1 - Prologue: After Life
 
Title: The Hardest Thing in the World
Author: Eowyn315
Disclaimer: Joss said, "Show's over, write fanfic." (I may be paraphrasing.) I'm just doing what I'm told.

Prologue: After Life

“This is hell.”

Spike stared at Buffy, struck dumb by her confession. The words whirled around in his brain, but their meaning felt out of reach.

“Just getting through the next moment, and the one after that, knowing what I've lost.” She stood and started to walk away. “They can never know. Never.”

Spike wanted to respond, but he couldn’t find the right words, and before he had a chance, she was gone. He pushed himself up to slump dejectedly atop the wooden crate he’d been leaning against, and felt a sickening sensation, as if his stomach had needed a sudden rendezvous with his toes. He should run after her, he thought, but he was reeling from the weight of her words, and she quickly disappeared into the sunlight and out of his reach.

He silently cursed Willow and the rest of the Scoobies for bringing her back. How could they have been so bloody self-absorbed?

Abruptly regaining the use of his motor functions, he slammed his fist into one of the packing crates stacked next to him, ripping up his knuckles for the second time in as many days. He realized how ignorant they’d all been, assuming Buffy was in hell. All the times she’d saved the world, all the sacrifices she’d made over the years to protect them, including, finally, sacrificing her life.

He looked down at the blood on his hand as a strangled half-sob escaped him.

Of course she’d been in heaven.

Didn’t they know enough to know that she deserved it? He didn’t really go in for the whole religion thing, being fairly well damned himself, but surely the powers that be or whatever it was that controlled the universe would reward her for all the good she’d done. How could her friends even think she’d been anyplace else? They were so goddamn selfish, needing to have their Buffy back, convincing themselves that they’d be doing her a favor by resurrecting her.

But not him. He’d accepted that Buffy was gone. Oh, it didn’t stop him from loving her, or counting the days since he’d lost her, or being a complete wreck without her, but he knew she was gone.

Then all that changed. The first time he saw her, looking down at him from the stairs – and Harris was right, though he’d never admit it, it was the happiest moment of his entire miserable existence. Every sodding fantasy he’d had since that night, all the ways he saved her, coming true all at once. He wanted to leap up the stairs and crush her in his embrace and kiss every inch of her. But he held himself back, because he knew it would be hard for her.

But bloody hell, he’d never realized it would be this hard. He’d never been to heaven, but he could imagine how awful the world must seem after being there. He would never have brought her back. He’d rather love a memory than cause her this much pain.

*****

Buffy walked home, arms wrapped protectively around her body, trying to withdraw into herself, to block out the noise and the brightness. She squinted her eyes against the sun, her head bowed.

She had been in heaven and this was hell. Somehow, saying it out loud to someone had made it seem more real. It wasn’t a bad dream – if you could have bad dreams in heaven. This was real, this was the world, gritty and harsh and painful.

She was beginning to realize how right she’d been when she told Dawn that the hardest thing in the world is to live in it.

Main Street was crowded with people, laughing, talking, on their way home from work or out to dinner or for some last-minute shopping before the stores closed. They jostled her as they walked past, didn’t notice her dazed expression as they bumped her shoulder, meeting little resistance as she allowed herself to be pushed aside, adrift in a sea of people. Their loud voices echoed in her head, magnified in comparison to the quiet she’d known before. It felt like the time she’d been able to hear everyone’s thoughts, all ricocheting around in her skull, mingling into a cacophony, never resolving to clear voices, just an unbearable din that went on and on and on until she’d practically gone crazy.

Maybe she was going crazy again.

She stepped off the curb and the screech of brakes and a blaring horn jarred her out of her thoughts. She looked on, disoriented, as the driver yelled something she couldn’t understand and drove around her. She stumbled across the street and leaned against the wall of the closest building, closing her eyes to hold back tears. She hated everything so much, so much it hurt.

She didn’t know why she’d told Spike the truth. She should have let him believe that she’d been in hell, just like her friends did. It was easier for them to think they’d done a good thing. They wanted to help so badly. They wanted her to be happy. But they didn’t know, and they pulled her away from happiness. They’d given her the world. This cruel, violent world that made her ache inside. The world she’d saved so many times, and for what? Having seen what was on the other side, she wondered if maybe she’d done them a disservice by keeping them from it. What could this world offer but chaos and pain?

But for a moment, she’d had peace. That first night, when Spike took her hands gently in his, and spoke to her in low, soothing tones, telling her how many days she’d been gone, and that he’d crawled out of his own grave too, and that it would be all right. He’d comforted her, and for that brief instant before her friends burst in, the world hadn’t seemed quite so harsh.

As much as she hated to admit it, she knew why she confided in Spike. Because while her friends were loud and crowding, with all their expectations of her, Spike was quiet and calm and gentle. He knew what it was like to die… and he wanted to save her.

She just wasn’t sure she wanted to be saved.
 
 
Chapter #2 - Homecoming
 
Chapter 1: Homecoming

“Dawnie, help me dry?” said Willow, clearing the dinner dishes from the dining room table. Tara was already in the kitchen, spooning the leftovers into plastic containers. As the others headed into the kitchen to clean up, Buffy slipped up the stairs to her room.

Dawn watched her go with a pout on her face. “Why doesn’t Buffy ever have to help with the dishes?”

Willow opened her mouth to respond, but couldn’t come up with a decent reason. “She’s been through a lot,” said Tara, ever the diplomat. She caught the wayward sleeve of Willow’s peasant blouse and rolled it back up past her elbow so it wouldn’t fall in the sink. Giving Willow’s arm a comforting pat, she said, “She just needs time to adjust, that’s all. I’m sure once things get back to normal, she’ll help out more around the house, like she used to.” Her voice had a tinge of wistfulness that undermined her attempted confidence.

“It’s not fair.” Dawn reluctantly grabbed the dishtowel and began to dry.

Willow adopted her sympathetic Willow-face as she handed the dishes to the younger girl. Despite Tara’s assurances, she understood how Dawn was feeling. Buffy was so different since they’d brought her back, and Willow missed the old Buffy terribly. She missed the Buffy who’d been her best friend for four and a half years. The Buffy who talked to her, and laughed with her, and shared secrets with her. The Buffy who would’ve been happy that they’d brought her back to life.

The clean up crew was interrupted by a knock at the front door. Tara went to answer it as Willow and Dawn dried their hands and followed behind her.

“Giles!” They found Tara wrapped in the embrace of the returned Watcher, and rushed to join them in a group hug. “You’re back!” said Willow.

“How was your flight?” asked Tara, taking his tweed jacket from him and hanging it on the hooks by the door.

“Dreadful.” Giles shook his head. He hated flying. Means of torture, it was, just short of bamboo shoots under one’s fingernails. “But I’m here now.” He looked around at them, taking in their faces one at a time. “It’s good to see you all.”

“We missed you,” said Dawn, clinging to him in a way that betrayed the childishness still lurking beneath the teenage veneer.

“And I you.” He patted her hair in a fatherly way. “Where’s…” He stopped, choking up a bit. He found it hard to say her name, even now.

“Buffy,” Willow finished.

“She’s upstairs. I’ll go get her.” Dawn turned and rushed up the stairs and knocked on Buffy’s door. “Buffy! Giles is back!”

After a moment, Buffy opened the door and peeked out with red-rimmed eyes. “Giles?” Dawn nodded with excitement.

Buffy fought back tears as she headed downstairs. She nearly collapsed into her Watcher’s arms at the foot of the stairs, gripping him as though he might leave again if she dared let go.

“Buffy,” he said, overcome with emotion. “You’re alive. You’re here. And you’re still…” He struggled to breathe. “Remarkably strong.”

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Buffy loosened her grasp.

“I couldn’t let myself believe it.” His eyes were misty behind his wire-rimmed spectacles. “Not until I saw you for myself.” It was a miracle, a bloody miracle. Willow had explained what happened when they spoke on the phone, but until he could see it, he’d doubted that the young witch really had the capability to pull off such a remarkable feat.

“Here I am.” Buffy shrugged, as if coming back from the dead were no big deal.

“How – how are you feeling?” He led her over to the sofa so that they could be more comfortable as they caught up.

“Okay, I guess. I mean, it’s kind of strange, you know? But I’m adjusting.”

He noticed that she was careful to avoid letting any emotion reflect in her voice. She’d always been strong, his Slayer, never wanting to show her weakness, and it broke his heart to think about the nightmarish things she might be keeping inside.

“It must have been awful. I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it…” His tone of voice betrayed how interested he was in learning about her after-death experience, but he wouldn’t push her to relive the horrors of hell until she was ready.

“Not really,” she admitted. “In fact, I’m… kind of tired.” She looked down at her hands in her lap and avoided Giles’ gaze.

“Giles is probably tired, too,” said Tara. “From the time change and all the traveling.”

“Yes, it has been quite a day. I should get back to the hotel and get some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow.”

“Ooh! We’ll have a party!” Willow tapped Tara’s arm in excitement. “A welcome home party for Giles, and… and for Buffy, being back. We haven’t really celebrated properly. Tomorrow night, we’ll do it up right.” Dawn perked up at the idea, and Buffy gave a tight smile.

“That’s a lovely idea,” said Giles. “Thank you.” He got up to leave and Buffy stood with him. “It’s good to have you back, Buffy.”

She smiled a little more. “You, too.” She gave him another hug before he left, then retreated up the stairs again. She managed to crawl into bed before the wave of despair came crashing down over her head.

*****

Xander hung up the phone and turned to Anya, who was sitting at the kitchen table poring over receipts from the Magic Box. “That was the Dawnmeister. Giles is back.”

“That’s great,” Anya replied, with a hint of false enthusiasm. “He’s not going to want the magic shop back, is he? He can’t have it. He signed papers.”

“I’m sure he remembers that, Ahn. Will’s having a party tomorrow, welcome back sort of thing.”

“Oh, good. So everyone will be together again.”

“Yes…” said Xander, uneasy with where she was headed.

“So it’ll be the perfect time to tell them all about us getting married.”

Bingo. Ulterior motive. Though, with Anya, it was hard to describe it as “ulterior,” since everything was fairly transparent to begin with. “It’s funny, you know,” he said, joining her at the table. “I saw that one coming at me, and yet, still didn’t duck fast enough.”

“Don’t you think it’s about time? I have a pretty ring, and I want to show it off. I want to start making wedding plans, and have people fuss over me and call me a blushing bride and buy me presents!”

“And we’ll do all that, Ahn. But don’t you think the fussing over you will take away from the welcoming Buffy and Giles back? We don’t want to overshadow the guests of honor, right?” Xander held his breath – he knew there was a decent chance she’d overshadow them in a heartbeat.

Instead of arguing with him, Anya pouted. “I just want to get started on our life together.”

Xander nodded. The puppy dog eyes were wearing him down. “I’m waiting for the perfect moment, that’s all.” He looked at her again and withered a little bit under the intense guilt trip. “Soon, I promise, honey.”

*****

Buffy curled herself into a ball with Mr. Gordo hugged tightly to her chest, choking back her sobs so the others wouldn’t hear her crying. She couldn’t bear the thought of Willow or Tara – or worst of all, Dawn – peeking in with their concerned faces and their calm, understanding platitudes. Because they didn’t understand, they couldn’t possibly know what she was feeling. The thought flickered in her mind that they wouldn’t know unless she told them… but she couldn’t do that. She could never – it would hurt them so much.

She heard footsteps in the hall and swiped away the tears with the back of her hand, her entire body tensing up, holding her breath until she heard the decisive slam of Dawn’s bedroom door and the muted sound of Annoying Boy Band of the Week emanating through the wall. Then she let out the breath with a sigh, punctuated by a post-cry hiccup.

She wasn’t even sure why she was crying – she’d been so hopeful for Giles’ return. For the first time in a long while, she felt safe again. As long as Giles was back, everything would be okay. He would take care of her.

But beneath the fatherly love and concern, he was still her Watcher. She felt guilty about cutting short their reunion, but there was a part of seeing him that frightened her. At some point, Giles would want to know – would need to know, for the sake of posterity and Watcher’s diaries and all that – what had happened to her and where she’d been, and she couldn’t bear to tell the truth.

Her breath caught in her throat and she started to feel smothered again and then she was clawing her way out of a coffin, gasping for air as dirt sprinkled her face from above and the padded casket seemed to swallow her up. She shut her eyes against the memory, but it closed in all around her, pulling her down until there was nothing but darkness.
 
 
Chapter #3 - Comfort
 
Chapter 2: Comfort

Buffy stepped out onto the back porch and breathed a sigh of relief. She basked in the stillness and the silence, gazing up at the stars as a breeze made her hair dance on her shoulders.

The snap of a twig and the rustle of leaves startled her out of her reverie. She appreciated the warning, since he usually just snuck up on her with his vampire stealth. “Quite the merrymaking going on in there,” Spike’s voice came from the shadows.

Buffy watched him as he crossed the lawn and joined her on the porch. His pale skin and hair took on an ethereal glow in the moonlight. “It’s a welcome home party.”

“For you or the Watcher?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Then shouldn’t you be in there?” When Buffy didn’t respond, he answered for her. “Too much noise. Too many people expecting you to be happy.” She nodded, and he remembered the last time he’d seen her. “This is getting to be a habit with you, innit? Running out in the middle of a lovefest.”

“It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to, right?”

“There is that. You want me to take ’em out?” He threw a mock punch. “Give me a hell of a headache, but I could probably thin the herd a little.” His teasing managed to elicit a small smile from Buffy, and his eyes brightened at the sight. “Knew I could get a grin.”

The smile faded almost as quickly as it had appeared as Buffy sank down on the porch steps. “Everyone wants me to be okay.”

Spike took a seat next to her. “Well, sure, that’s what friends do.”

“But I’m not!” He could hear the pain in her voice. “And they – they’re so disappointed if I – I have to keep pretending for them. I’m so tired, I just… it takes so much. The big bowl of happy is so not me right now, and they expect me to –”

She stopped abruptly. Spike looked over at her, but she was staring at her hands in her lap. “Buffy, if you need to… talk about it, or… I mean, if there’s anything I –” She shook her head, still not meeting his eyes.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence, Buffy sighed. “I should go back in.” She didn’t seem too keen on the idea.

“Screw them,” said Spike. Her head jerked up at his tone, and when he continued, his voice was softer, gentler. “What do you want, pet?”

“I want… I don’t know what I want. I just don’t want to pretend.”

“Don’t have to pretend with me.”

“I want… the pain to go away. Everything hurts, Spike, everything. And there’s so much pain, and fear, and – and loss. Like I’ve lost something huge, even worse than when my mom… it’s a part of me, that’s just… gone. And I’m angry at them, but I can’t even hate them because it makes me too tired.”

He clenched his jaw and blinked back tears – for her, of course, because it killed him to see her like this, but also out of rage at them, that they could do this to her without considering the consequences.

“I don’t – I don’t know what to say, pet. I wish I did, but… not much good with the comfort, I guess.”

“No, you’ve been… this has helped.”

He looked up hopefully. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She hesitated, uncertain, then said, “Spike? What was it like, for you?” When he gave her a puzzled look, she added, “Dying.”

He drew in a deep breath, letting it out in a slow, thoughtful exhale. “Well, it hurt, for one. You been bitten before, know what that’s like. There’s pain, yeah, but… something else, something…”

“Passionate.”

He glanced over and found her expression unyielding, concealing any emotions, but her eyes radiated understanding.

“Yeah.” He coughed nervously. “Anyway, after a bit, everything started to go dark and, well, then there was nothing, really. Just woke up again, seemed like only moments, but must have been a day at least.”

“Did you think about anything, when it happened? Your family? Your… life?”

He began fiddling with his Zippo, flicking it open and closed, running his finger through the flame. “Thought about a girl,” he told her with a sheepish half-smile. “Cecily.”

“Your girlfriend?”

The last time she’d asked for his life story, he’d woven it with lies and embellishments, spinning a fantastic tale of an Artful Dodger youth followed by years of reprobate law-breaking and troublemaking, and carefully omitting the part where he’d been a ponce and a lousy poet obsessed with a woman who wouldn’t give him the time of day.

He shook his head. “Hardly.” He snapped the lighter closed one final time and dropped it in his pocket. When he withdrew his hand again, it contained a flask. He tilted his head back and let the bourbon smooth away the rough edges of painful memories.

“You wanna talk about… what it felt like for you?” he asked her.

She whipped her head back and forth violently. “No. I want to forget it, all of it. If I can’t remember, it won’t hurt, right?” Her eyes pleaded with him, and then shifted away from his face. He followed her gaze to the flask in his hand and studied it for a moment before handing to her.

She snatched it out of his hand, took a swig, and promptly coughed and gagged as the liquor burned her throat. “Blechhh,” she said, making a face. “What is that?”

“Bourbon, love.”

“I don’t think I like bourbon.”

“It’s not a forgetting spell, but it does the trick. For a little while, at least.”

She looked at him again, all the pleading and the pain welling up in her eyes. “Okay.”

He cocked his head to one side, judging whether she was serious. This was probably a terrible idea, but when had that ever stopped him before? He’d let a hellgod rearrange his insides to spare her from pain. This was nothing in comparison. He pocketed the flask again and stood, tugging her up with him.

“Come on.” He intertwined his fingers with hers and leaned back, countering her resistance as he tried to pull her off the porch. “We’ll go someplace with variety.”

She gave in and allowed herself to be drawn toward him, until they were standing inches apart. Spike felt a sudden warmth at her nearness and suppressed a shudder. “Right, then,” he stammered, momentarily thrown by her wide eyes and soft lips so close to his, and he had to fight the urge not to take her in his arms right there and try to kiss away her pain. He backed away and headed for the bushes.

Buffy followed him out of her yard and down the street. She expected him to take her back to his crypt and was surprised to find that they were heading toward the center of town.

“Where are we going?”

Spike turned to her, puzzled. “A bar.” She wanted to drink – he thought it was obvious. He certainly wasn’t going to take her back to his crypt – where there was alcohol, yes, but also a bed and pillows and candles and handcuffs, with plenty of potential for drunken fumblings and imminent stakings. Definitely a bad idea. So he was headed to Willy’s. “Where they have alcohol,” he explained.

Buffy frowned. “First of all, I’m not old enough –”

“You don’t get carded in demon bars.”

“And besides, I don’t really want to be around noise and people, remember?”

Spike relented. “My place, then? Dark, quiet, and all the blood and bourbon you can drink.” He’d just have to keep on his guard, then. If she was gonna get hammered, he’d be staying sober tonight.

Buffy made the same face she had when she’d swallowed the bourbon. “Anything else?”

“I’ll see what I can scrounge up.”

It turned out he didn’t need to do much scrounging. By the time they got back to his crypt, she was drinking out of his flask again and had managed to swallow without gagging, though she continued to make a face with each swig, and occasionally he heard an unhappy gurgling noise. Spike pulled out all the liquor bottles he had and set them up on the big flat-topped sarcophagus. He sat down next to the bottles and gestured for Buffy to join him. He grabbed a bottle and two chipped glass tumblers he’d stolen from the Summers basement the previous year, but before he could pour, Buffy shook her head and took the bottle away from him. He watched, amused, as she proceeded to drink his whiskey directly from the bottle.

She stuck her tongue out and shook her head. “Blehhhhhh.” Spike moved to take the bottle back, but she held it out of reach.

His lips curled up as he moved the glasses aside. “Won’t be needing these then, I guess.”
 
 
Chapter #4 - The Morning After (pt 1)
 
Chapter 3: The Morning After (pt 1)

Willow and Tara were sleeping, curled up in each other’s arms on the sofa, the remnants of the party scattered around them. Giles, Xander and Anya had gone home a few hours earlier, and Dawn was safe in bed. Buffy had slipped out for air and never returned, causing her friends some concern, though it was certainly nothing new. Since she’d been back, she had developed a habit of withdrawing to her room or going off patrolling without telling anyone. When she turned up later, she never apologized for her abrupt disappearances, and when questioned about them, she gave excuses like “I was just tired” or “I felt like killing something” that never quite satisfied her friends.

They expected no different tonight and so, once half the honored guests had made an unannounced exit, the party quickly dispersed, in disappointment for those who recognized the behavior, confusion for those who didn’t. After sending Dawn upstairs, the two witches had settled on the couch to wait up for Buffy – or at least try to. She was perfectly able to take care of herself, they knew, but it didn’t hurt to make sure she came home safely.

The front door opened and Tara started awake. She looked up to see Spike carrying the Slayer’s prone form in his arms.

“Willow! Wake up!” Tara said in a loud whisper, nudging her lover out of dreamland.

“What is – Oh!” Willow jumped up when she saw Spike and Buffy. “What happened to her?”

“Shhh. She’s fine, she’s just pissed. Had a bit of a bender and then passed out in my crypt, figured I’d bring her home.”

“Oh.” Willow wasn’t exactly sure what a bender was, but context clues told her Buffy was drunk.

“Thanks,” Tara added.

Spike nodded towards the stairs. “I’ll just take her on up to bed then.” He fixed the witches with a hardened look they didn’t understand, almost as if he blamed them for something, before turning and taking Buffy upstairs.

*****

When Buffy awoke the next morning, the daylight seemed harsher than usual. She sat up in bed, only to flop back down with the onset of a terrible pounding in her skull. She covered her face with the covers and moaned. What on earth had she been thinking last night? She didn’t even like bourbon.

As her thoughts gradually became more linear, she realized she was in her own bed. How did she get here? The last thing she remembered was drinking in Spike’s crypt. Brilliant idea, Slayer, she thought to herself. Get all drunk and vulnerable with the vampire. She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow in disgust.

As another horrifying thought entered her throbbing brain, she lifted her head out of the pillow in alarm. Drunk and vulnerable. She wasn’t dead, so clearly Spike hadn’t wanted to kill her. But he might have had other ideas. She knew how he felt about her, and with the whole soulless moral-deficiency thing, she wouldn’t put it past him to take advantage of her while she was intoxicated.

Buffy rolled over onto her back and peeked under the covers to take stock of herself. She was wearing her yummy sushi pajama bottoms and the tank top she’d had on last night. That meant someone had changed her pants. Spike? Or Willow, when she got home. How had she gotten home?

She tried to think through the fuzziness that was her brain. She didn’t feel violated. She was almost certain that if he’d done anything, she’d be able to tell.

When the queasy feeling in her stomach had calmed a bit, she managed to drag herself out of bed and down to the kitchen, where Willow was waiting to greet her with the appropriate sober-roommate sympathy. “How are you feeling?”

She tried to mask her concern for Buffy behind her understanding smile. In truth, she was worried about her friend. Drinking until she passed out – that wasn’t normal Buffy behavior. At least, it hadn’t been before the whole death-and-resurrection thing. Willow feared that the horrors of hell had left a deeper scar on Buffy’s psyche than any of them had realized. She could only hope that this was a one-time, get-it-out-of-her-system kind of thing – drink herself to oblivion, forget the months of torment, and then get on with the business of putting her life back together.

Buffy just groaned in response and set about getting herself a glass of water, hoping to get rid of the furry taste in her mouth.

“Aspirin?” Willow gestured to the counter where she’d laid out two pills, anticipating Buffy’s need.

Buffy smiled and swallowed them thankfully. “So… what exactly… I mean, how did…”

“Spike brought you home. Do you remember going to his crypt?”

“I remember bourbon.”

“He said you passed out.”

Buffy closed her eyes in embarrassment. “Did he say anything else?”

“Not really.”

“You don’t think he…”

“Tried anything? No, he wouldn’t,” Willow said. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief, comforted by her friend’s confidence, and at the same time feeling guilty for her earlier suspicions. Spike was evil, yeah, but he wasn’t… evil. She only had a patchy recollection of the previous night’s encounter, but from everything she could remember, Spike had been a perfect gentleman… even when she hadn’t been quite so well behaved herself.

Before she could continue the conversation, Dawn burst in through the kitchen door, slamming it behind her.

Buffy winced and pressed her fingers to her temples. “Loud.”

“What’s the matter with her?” Dawn dropped her bag on the breakfast bar and headed for the refrigerator.

“Buffy had a rough night,” said Willow.

Dawn raised her eyebrows and inspected her older sister. “Is she hung over?”

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” Buffy countered, to avoid answering the question.

Dawn closed the refrigerator, soda in hand, and made a face at her. “It’s Saturday.” She turned back to Willow. “She ditched the party to go out drinking last night, didn’t she?”

Willow nodded. “With Spike.”

Dawn’s expression completely changed, a smile creeping onto her face. “Seriously?”

“Dawnie, you really wanna talk very quietly, okay?” Buffy pleaded.

“Yeah, sorry.” Dawn was no longer paying attention to her sister as she headed into the living room to plop herself in front of the TV, still thinking about Spike. She was glad that the two of them were spending time together. It was almost like a date. A kind of dysfunctional date, but still, better than nothing.

Dawn had had a crush on Spike for a long time, but the two of them really bonded after they lost Buffy. He’d been her best friend that summer, and in a lot of ways, the only thing that kept her going after losing her mom and sister so close together. She could tell that she was the only thing that kept him going, too. She’d come to know all too well the haunted look that meant he was contemplating a walk in the sunshine. But he never did it, because he’d made a promise to protect her, and he clung to it desperately – the only meaning he could find in an unlife without Buffy. He’d loved her so much – even if Buffy didn’t realize, Dawn did. She only wished Buffy had figured it out before she died, then they might have had a real relationship.

After her sister’s death, Dawn sometimes entertained little fantasies about Spike falling in love with her when she grew up – discovering he could love the younger Summers even though he’d lost the elder, kind of how Laurie ended up marrying Amy after Jo turned him down. But with Buffy back, Dawn would gladly settle for Spike as the big brother figure who was dating her sister. Now all she needed was for Buffy to realize they were perfect for each other.
 
 
Chapter #5 - The Morning After (pt 2)
 
Chapter 4: The Morning After (pt 2)

Willow was sitting on the sofa reading a book she’d borrowed from the magic shop when Buffy trudged in, aspirin bottle and glass of water in hand.

“Feeling any better?”

Buffy nodded, then flinched as the movement caused a dizzy spell. “I think my stomach has stopped revolting against me. My head’s still a little angry, though.”

“Oh, it’ll get over it. It’s just cranky because you killed some of its favorite brain cells.”

“Yeah.” Buffy sank down on the couch next to Willow. “I think it’s also embarrassed, because I kinda remember dancing on top of a sarcophagus.” She rolled her eyes and tilted her head back into the pillows. She also remembered the serious conversation they’d had before the drinking started, but she wasn’t going to tell Willow about that. Had she really poured her soul out to Spike, of all people? What kind of backwards world had she been brought back to, where she confided in Spike and kept secrets from her friends?

But then, what kind of friends were they, that they would take heaven away from her?

They didn’t know, she had to keep reminding herself. That was important to remember. They thought they did a good thing, and she had to let them think it.

And Spike… well, he did help her last night. He was the only one with any idea what it was like, the only one who could answer her questions. And if communing with the evil dead went against the job description, well, so what? Not like she hadn’t broken that rule before.

“Could have been worse,” Willow was saying. “At least it was a sarcophagus and not a bar in front of, like, people.” Buffy just groaned in response. Slayer therapy or not, she wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of giving Spike a free show.

“Hey, you hungry? You want me to make you some toast?” Willow offered.

She started to shake her head, then remembered Mr. Cranky Brain. “No thanks,” she said instead.

“You should eat something. Toast is good, it’ll absorb the alcohol.”

“I’m fine, Will,” Buffy replied, a little sharper than she meant to.

Willow quickly glanced down at her book. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s just… You don’t have to be my mother.”

Willow looked up, a concerned expression on her face. “Am I smothering you? Oh, I am! I didn’t mean to.”

Buffy laid a hand on her arm. “Will, it’s okay.”

“But I smother out of love. I’m a love smotherer.” She hated to upset Buffy, when she only wanted what was best for her best friend. It seemed like it was so easy to upset her these days – the slightest thing could send her into a funk, or worse, provoke tears that she quickly blinked away and thought no one noticed.

“It’s just… it’s hard to adjust, you know? I need some time alone.”

Willow nodded at the tired refrain as if her body were on autopilot. It seemed to be Buffy’s new favorite phrase since she’d come back. She wondered if it was insensitive of her that she hated those words. Then she felt like a horrible person for even thinking it. This was Buffy, after all, her best friend – where was her compassion?

Buffy looked down at her lap and sighed deeply before continuing. “And I think it might help if things went back to normal.”

Willow looked confused. “Normal?”

“In the house, you know.”

Her eyes widened as she started to catch Buffy’s meaning. “You mean…?”

“Just me and Dawn.”

Willow sat up straighter, slightly taken aback. Binge drinking was one thing, but kicking housemates out of the house was a much more serious matter. But – compassion, right? She was supposed to be understanding and sympathetic. “Yeah, okay,” she said, attempting to keep the hurt out of her voice. “Sure. Tara and I will… we’ll just start looking for an apartment. No worries.”

“Will…”

“No. You’re right. I mean, we moved in here to take care of Dawn, but since you’re back, it’s your house, and you should get to decide…” She was trying desperately to sound like she meant what she said.

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done,” Buffy said, in what she hoped was a convincing tone.

Everything except the part where you brought me back, she thought.
 
 
Chapter #6 - Sister Thing
 
Chapter 5: Sister Thing

“Come on, where are you?” Buffy muttered. She was bent over the weapons chest in the living room, packing her bag for patrol, and couldn’t seem to find her favorite axe.

“Okay.” She straightened up, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Maybe that memory trick would work, if she pictured the last place she saw it. She had a vague recollection of leaving it under her bed. Had that been before she died, or after? The fact that she had to make the distinction brought back the nauseous feeling she’d had most of the day. As she started up the stairs, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she almost crashed into Spike coming out of the dining room.

“Oh!” Regaining her composure, she shot him a dirty look. “Bell. Neck. Look into it.”

Spike smirked at her. “Come with a nice leather collar, does it?”

Buffy rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “What are you doing here?”

“Came in the back. Was looking for you.” He leaned casually against the wall, blocking her path up the stairs.

“Found me. What do you want?”

He hated that every conversation with her seemed to take them right back to the beginning. No matter how much she opened up to him, the next time they met they always started over again with the same defensiveness. Guess it was just in their nature.

Spike’s smirk widened into a wicked grin. “Encore of last night’s performance?” No use fighting nature, after all.

Buffy blushed furiously, which only made Spike’s grin broader. He’d been very proud of himself for his behavior – he hadn’t even been tempted when she started her striptease on top of the sarcophagus. Well, maybe just a little. But he hadn’t acted on it, and that was the important part. So he felt he’d earned a turn at poking fun at the Slayer. “Don’t worry, love. You passed out before most of your clothes came off.”

He hadn’t thought she could turn a brighter shade of red, but he was wrong.

“What do you want?” Buffy repeated, this time through gritted teeth.

Instead of answering, he studied her expression for traces of a hangover. “S’pose you were feeling it when you woke up today. Made a pretty good dent in my stash last night.”

Buffy shrugged it off, willing her face to return to its normal color. She knew she must look even redder compared to the pallor of a vampire.

“I’m fine.” She started up the stairs again to look for her axe.

Spike stopped her, grabbing her arm as she passed him. “Take a night off, love. I’ll patrol tonight.”

“By yourself?”

“Hey, I can handle myself.” He pushed off the wall and straightened to his full height. She acted like he’d never patrolled before. “But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll take a Scooby or two. Where’s Red?”

Buffy sighed and relented. “Will!” she shouted up the stairs. When the redhead appeared in the hallway, she asked, “You up for patrolling tonight?”

“Well, sure.” Willow was surprised that Buffy had changed her mind about patrolling alone. “But I thought you wanted to…”

“With Spike.” She jerked her thumb in the vampire’s direction. “He thinks I’m still too hung over to fight the baddies.”

Willow’s expression changed a little, but she maintained an assured smile. “Oh. Okay. Hey, you can have a girls’ night with Dawn. Sister thing.” She looked down at her long denim skirt. “Lemme just change my clothes, okay?”

As soon as she disappeared from the landing, Spike said, “’S not the hangover I’m worried about, pet.”

Buffy’s lips parted in surprised at his concern, but she quickly covered it with a mask of guarded emotion. “I don’t want to talk about that.” Her tone and facial expression told Spike she meant business, and so he didn’t press her further.

With Willow re-outfitted in more suitable slaying attire, Buffy saw them out the door and headed upstairs. She didn’t know about Willow’s suggestion of girls’ night, but she did need to talk to her sister.

“Hey, Dawnie?” She stuck her head in the room.

Dawn looked up from writing in her diary. “Thought you were patrolling.”

“Willow and Spike went out tonight.” There was an awkward pause as Buffy tried to think of some way to ease into the conversation. “Whatcha writing about?”

Dawn adopted that teenage “how stupid are you?” expression. “Like I’d tell you.”

“So it’s about a boy?” Buffy teased.

“Not telling.”

“Or me? How awful and horrible your big sister is?”

“Getting closer,” Dawn deadpanned.

“You should read what I write about you in my diary. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed and faced Dawn. “Please don’t get upset about this.”

“What is it?” she asked, suddenly alarmed.

Buffy took a deep breath. “Willow and Tara are moving out. They’re going to find their own place, you know?”

Dawn’s eyes narrowed and Buffy braced herself for one of her sister’s classic temper tantrums, the ones that usually ended with her shrieking until Buffy left her alone in her room to sulk.

For now, the temper seemed to be simmering under the surface. “Why?”

Buffy really didn’t want to explain her reasons to her sister – she couldn’t, or hello to the questions she couldn’t answer without spilling her secret. For a moment, she considered telling Dawn. She hadn’t been involved in the resurrection idea, so she wouldn’t feel guilty if she knew the truth. But she would be furious at the Scoobies. There would be no way Buffy could keep her from taking them to task about it – and that was the last thing she wanted, and definitely not the way her friends deserved to find out.

And Dawn didn’t deserve the weight of her pain. She shouldn’t have to think about the depression or suicidal thoughts that were tormenting her older sister. She shouldn’t be questioning whether Buffy even wanted her around, when she was pushing her friends away and withdrawing from everyone else. She shouldn’t have to know what hell on earth feels like.

So Buffy tried to look cheerful and said, “It’ll be just you and me again, like it used to be.”

“I like having them here,” Dawn said through clenched teeth.

“I know, but I think it’s better this way, okay?” Buffy held her breath, waiting for the inevitable explosion, but Dawn just grumbled a little under her breath and crossed her arms over her chest.

“It’s not like we won’t see them,” said Buffy. “I’m sure they’ll be over all the time, just like Xander and Anya.”

Dawn let out an exaggerated sigh to express her disapproval of the plan, but then grudgingly admitted, “I guess it’ll be nice not having to share the bathroom with three other people.”

“See? Just think of the happy.” Buffy smiled, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief at Dawn’s reaction. Maybe her little sister had matured some in her absence. “There’s going to be some ground rules though. I don’t know what things were like over the summer, but I still have to look after you, even without the whole Key thing.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “What kind of rules?” She could just tell, Buffy was about to get even more protective than she’d already been.

“I don’t want you going anywhere alone at night. You tell me when you’re going to a friend’s house, or anywhere, for that matter. I want hourly updates. You don’t check in, I send hordes of Scoobies out to find you, and I promise they will do their best to embarrass you in public.”

“What about Scooby stuff?”

“You can help with research.” Dawn’s face lit up. “But,” Buffy went on sternly, “I don’t want to hear any complaints if we say that you can’t go with us somewhere or do something dangerous, or – or –”

“Or anything else that might expose me to the horrors of the underworld?” Dawn finished with sarcasm.

“Exactly. And when I’m out patrolling, either someone stays with you, or you go stay with them. I don’t want you here alone.”

“Buffy! I’m not a kid! I can stay home alone.”

“Hey, recently raised from the dead here. Humor me, will you?”

Dawn groaned theatrically and flopped back against the pillows on her bed.

“Look, I know you think you’re too old for a babysitter, but you’re the only family I’ve got now. I can’t risk anything happening to you.”

“What about you? You’re the only family I have, too.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Dawn cocked her head to one side and raised her eyebrows skeptically, an expression Buffy was sure she’d picked up from Spike. “I don’t know about that,” said Dawn. “I’m the only one in the room who hasn’t died twice, y’know.”

“Hey, I died saving your ass,” Buffy shot back, but with a smile to show Dawn she was just teasing. It was important to be light-hearted around her sister. No matter how she felt about dying, or her second (third?) chance at life, she never wanted Dawn to feel like it was her fault, or that Buffy blamed her for anything. “And I’ll be damned if I’m doing it again, so you better stay out of trouble, all right?”

Dawn shook her head, but she started to smile back. “Can Spike take care of me?”

“Has he – has he been doing that a lot?”

“All the time,” Dawn laughed. She paused then more seriously added, “Spike’s been hurting so bad since you died.” Buffy looked down and began tracing the pattern on the bedspread. “He loved you,” Dawn continued, “and I think he feels guilty about breaking his promise. Now he won’t leave me alone.” She rolled her eyes again. “Like, ever.”

Buffy had to smile a little. After all, Spike was doing what he said he would do – protecting Dawn, until the end of the world.
 
 
Chapter #7 - Fire and Brimstone
 
Chapter 6: Fire and Brimstone

Spike stared at the freshly filled grave in front of him and cocked an eyebrow. “You sure this is the right place?”

Willow bit her lip. “Positive. Arthur K. Finley. Early morning jogger. Horribly tragic death by neck trauma. Got it straight from the Sunnydale police crime report.”

Spike looked over at her, amused. “You know, some people might use their computer hacking skills for slightly less macabre purposes.”

“That’s what makes me special.” She grinned, and the ground before them started to stir. “Ooh, think our guy’s waking up.”

“You wanna take this one, or should I?” asked Spike, as two fists punched their way through the dirt.

“Got it.” She rummaged through her shoulder bag for a stake and a small cloth pouch, then prepared herself to try a new spell. Spike stepped back to allow her room to work.

As soon as the demon formerly known as Arthur Finley was fully out of the grave, Willow threw a handful of dried herbs on him. As he sputtered and blinked in surprise, she said, “Immobilus.” The vampire was frozen in place, and she staked him with ease.

Spike shook his head at the witch. “Think that’s cheating, love.”

Willow just giggled, dropping the stake and herb pouch back into her bag, and the two fell into step as they continued on their rounds through the cemetery. They walked in silence for a bit, and Spike pulled out his pack of cigarettes, lit one, and inhaled, shoving the rest of the pack back into his coat pocket.

“Spike?”

He glanced over at her, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth in order to direct it away from her. “Yeah, love?”

“Is Buffy… is she okay?”

“You’re the best friend, pet. Why’re you asking me?”

“I – I don’t know.” Willow lowered her eyes to the ground as she walked. She certainly didn’t feel like the best friend. “It’s just… she’s been distant lately.”

“Yeah, she has.” Spike took a drag on his cigarette. No, she’s not okay, you stupid bint! he wanted to scream at her. She’s barely hanging on by a thread, can’t you see that? But he held back, knowing it wasn’t what Buffy wanted.

“It seems like she… talks to you.”

He tilted his head and blew more smoke into the air. “A little bit. Slayer’s not big on the sharing.” And what she had shared, he reminded himself, he had promised never to tell, even if it was killing him – and her.

“I just thought she’d be more grateful, is all. After what I – we did for her.” Spike bit back a nasty remark. He had to remind himself that Willow honestly thought she’d done a good thing. “I mean, we brought her out of hell, the least she could do is be happy about it.”

Spike gave a non-committal shrug. “Maybe she’s still adjusting.”

“She asked me to move out.”

His head snapped toward her. “She what?”

“She said she wanted things to be normal again, just her and Dawn.”

Spike’s senses alerted him to a vampire and he turned to see it charging at him from behind a crypt. He kicked it in the face, engaging the vamp without breaking the conversation with Willow.

“She’s trying to – ungh –” He grunted as he planted a left hook on the vampire’s chin. “…distance herself from you.” He ducked a punch and landed a kick in the stomach, knocking the vamp backwards. “So you won’t see her when she’s not totally in control. Slayer doesn’t like seeming vulnerable.”

Willow nodded awkwardly, not sure whether to step in and help Spike or just keep talking. She stood off to the side and watched, since Spike didn’t appear to need help. “You shouldn’t let her withdraw,” he advised, while executing an impressive elbow jab-kick combination, and not for the first time, Willow envied the vampire’s lack of a need to breathe. She’d have been a wheezy mess if she tried to carry on a conversation while doing… what the hell was that? It looked like Spike was going for a kick to the head, but he planted his foot on the vampire’s shoulder and vaulted himself clear over his head, doing a little flip to land on his feet behind his opponent.

Okay, no amount of oxygen would enable her to do that. “Show-off,” Willow muttered.

“I’m not saying you should – oomph – force yourself on her,” Spike continued, absorbing a kick to the stomach. “Can’t very well say no if she wants you to move out.”

“So what should I… oooh,” she winced, as he took several punches to the face in quick succession. “What should I do?”

“Toss me a stake!” Spike shouted, recovering to block the vampire’s blows. Willow pulled one out of her bag and threw it to him. He caught it and staked the vamp in one fluid movement. “Game over.” When he turned back to Willow, she half-smiled.

“Actually, I meant what should I do about Buffy?”

Spike cocked his head to the side and blinked. “Right,” he replied, back on track with the conversation. “Can’t force her to open up, right? Just stick by her, much as she’ll let you. And give her time. Can’t expect her to be happy all the time right away.” He measured his words, wanting to give the girl some guidance so she’d make things easier for Buffy, but knowing that he’d have to tread delicately around the subject of her adjusting to the world.

Willow opened her mouth to protest – Buffy should be happy – but a look from him stopped her.

“It’s just… she needs peace, you know?” Spike’s voice was heavy with experience. “When you’re dead, it’s quiet. There’s a reason they say ‘silent as the grave,’ right? Coming back here, the world overwhelms you a little.”

She looked at him, puzzled. “But Buffy was in hell.”

Spike shrugged. “Not all hells are fire and brimstone, love.” He gave her a pointed look. “I think, wherever she was, it wasn’t what you’d expect.”
 
 
Chapter #8 - Close Call
 
Chapter 7: Close Call

“I think this is the place.” Willow glanced down at the address she was holding, then back up at the apartment building. Tara was in class all day, so she’d brought Giles along for her apartment-hunting. They’d already seen two places that fell into the “one step above a cardboard box” category, and had one more to check out after this. The outside of the present prospect didn’t look especially promising, but at least there were no visible holes in the roof or walls.

As they emerged from the building a frightful half hour later, Giles said, “Willow, perhaps you should consider a different neighborhood?”

“Poor college students, Giles. We’re kind of embracing the tightness of the budget.”

“Yes, well…”

“Besides, this place wasn’t so bad, right? Better than the last two.”

“Spike’s crypt is better equipped than that hellhole!”

“Yeah. But I mean, if it weren’t for the rats…” At Giles’ horrified expression, she cut herself off. “Hey, speaking of Spike and, well… hell… How do you think Buffy’s doing?”

While Giles furrowed his brow in an attempt to follow that transition, Willow added, “It seems like she’s been spending a lot of time with Spike since she got back.”

“Yes, well, I’m certain it can’t be easy for her. Though I’m not sure Spike is the best counselor for these purposes…”

“Well, he is the only one who knows what it’s like to be dead.” She shrugged. “It’s not like she could go to a real therapist or something. I mean, what would she say? ‘I’m having some trouble readjusting after being dead and spending an indeterminate amount of time in a hell dimension before my friends resurrected me’?”

“No, certainly not that,” said Giles. “I think the most we can do for Buffy is to be supportive, and do our best to understand what she’s been through.” He eyed Willow carefully. “Perhaps if you told me more about the spell that you performed.”

She avoided his gaze. “I’ve already told you everything.”

She was lying. She hadn’t told him about all the scary things that had happened to her when she’d done the spell. She’d sworn the others to secrecy, knowing that Giles would freak out and lecture her on magic safety, something she so did not need right now.

It looked like she was going to get the lecture anyway. “The spell you did was very dangerous. Any number of things could have gone wrong. We don’t even know for sure where she was.” This was as close as he could come to voicing the nagging feeling he had about Buffy’s afterlife experience.

Willow tensed up, starting to get defensive. “Giles, she was in hell. She told us. And nothing went wrong, so there’s nothing to worry about.” Deliberately changing the subject, she added, “Come on, I think this last apartment is in a nicer part of town.”

If she was honest with herself, she was torn between wanting Giles to figure out why Buffy was acting the way she was, and not wanting him to get too concerned. Because if Giles thought there was something seriously wrong with Buffy, then that would mean it was really her fault. She was the one who’d brought Buffy back.

It was supposed to be this great, wonderful thing – their best friend was alive and safe and not in whatever awful place she’d been in. Except for some reason, Buffy didn’t seem very happy about it. Wasn’t that the whole reason they were here, looking at apartments – because Buffy didn’t even want her around? Even if she could rationalize away Buffy’s seeking comfort in Spike, Willow couldn’t shake the feeling in her gut that maybe everything wasn’t as neat and tidy as she’d planned.

*****

Buffy rolled onto her side, coughing up vampire dust. When Merrick, her first Watcher, had explained the hazards of the job, choking on vampire dust hadn’t been mentioned as one of the health risks. That really should’ve been in the handbook. If anybody’d thought to give her the handbook.

She pushed up to a sitting position and looked around for her weapons bag. Spotting it dangling from a tall tombstone, she dragged herself to her feet and collected it.

Okay now, Buffy, she told herself. Let’s try that once more with some enthusiasm.

She picked up a stray stake that had fallen out of her bag and shoved it listlessly back in. Nothing about this patrol had been satisfying. The first two vamps had been far too easy, barely putting up a fight before she had to stake them out of sheer pity. Nothing that stupid should be allowed to live. And that last one had nearly bought her a one-way ticket to the great beyond – or wherever Willow had pulled her back from. He hadn’t even been that strong, but he’d had her flat on her back, and not in a sexy way. More of a fangy way. And the scary part? She wasn’t even sure she cared.

She thought she’d finally come to terms with being the Slayer in the past year. Once she tapped into the whole First Slayer thing, and managed to get past the fear of losing control that Faith’s downward spiral had caused, she came to accept slaying for the primal release that it was. Even when her life was falling apart, when Riley was leaving her, when her mom was sick, when Glory was after Dawn, she’d taken comfort in slaying, the nightly catharsis of being able to kill things with her bare hands. Even her death, when it came, had been comforting, a Slayer’s final duty.

But since she’d been back, it just hadn’t felt the same. Nothing felt real anymore, not even her sacred calling. She felt detached from the world, disconnected, like somebody pulled the plug when she died and no one ever bothered to plug it back in. She found herself longing for the release that a vampire’s fangs could bring, seeking once again the escape of death.

She never managed to go through with it – always, at the last minute, survival instinct kicked in, or slayer instinct, or something, and she’d end up like she was tonight, pondering a close call instead of shuffling off her mortal coil. Some part of her was always disappointed when that happened, and even thought she was repulsed by it, not even slaying the crap out of vampires could make that feeling go away.

But there was one thing that did, if only temporarily. Finishing up her patrol by taking a route that was quickly becoming habit, Buffy heard the soft strains of the piano as she approached the crypt.

Huh. That was odd. Spike didn’t exactly strike her as a classical music connoisseur. Maybe he’d been eaten by a Beethoven-loving demon. “Spike?” she called, easing the door open.

His head popped up from the trapdoor. “Down here, love.”

The irony wasn’t lost on her that, in her struggle to learn how to live again, she sought solace in the one person who had been determined to kill her not more than a year ago. Now, of course, he’d probably be horrified and sickened if she asked him to fulfill the promise he made to her in that alley behind the Bronze. He had made another promise since then, one forged in love and sealed in blood, and losing her had only made him more steadfast in his resolve to never let it happen again.

Sometimes she thought it was the only thing keeping her alive.
 
 
Chapter #9 - Got to Begin Again
 
A/N: The songs they're listening to are "Nocturne" and "Got to Begin Again" by Billy Joel.

Chapter 8: Got to Begin Again

Buffy followed Spike down to the lower cavern, the music getting louder as she descended. “You have a tape player?” she asked, surprised.

“Nicked it from someone’s trash. Been fiddling with it, finally got it to play.” He stood and admired his handiwork for a moment.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just break into a store and steal a CD player?”

Spike looked put out. “Well, yeah, but fixing that bugger up gave me something to do in my spare time. ’Sides, thought you didn’t like me stealing things.”

Buffy was about to make a wisecrack about him never listening to what she said but decided to bite her tongue. “What’s this song?” she asked, as the piano crescendoed to its climax.

“’S called Nocturne.”

“Fitting, for a vampire. It’s pretty.”

Spike led her over to the sofa as the song ended and the next one began, again a piano, but in a lilting rock ballad that was a decidedly different style from the instrumental.

“Spike –”

He put a finger to her lips to silence her. “Just listen.”

Well so here I am at the end of the road
Where do I go from here?
I always figured it would be like this
Still nothing seems to be quite clear


Spike rested his arm across the back of the couch, and Buffy surprised him by leaning into him. He wrapped his arm around her, snuggling her close to his chest. She could banter like everything was fine, but he’d caught the haunted look in her eyes when she walked in. Another close call, he suspected. She didn’t mention them, not since that first time when he’d caught her pinned by a fledgling, about to eat her own stake. He’d dusted the bastard and railed on her about the idiocy of suicide by vampire until she was near crying and then he’d screamed at her, I can’t watch you die again! in a voice so hoarse with love and rage and pain and fear it hardly sounded like his own. And then she did start to cry, and he was too upset to be of any comfort and after she left he’d smashed up nearly every piece of movable furniture in his crypt in a blind panic.

She never said anything when she came back to find his place completely refurnished, and he never again asked about the near misses on patrol.

All the words have been spoken and the prophecy fulfilled
But I just can't decide where to go
Yes, it's been quite a day and I should go to sleep
But tomorrow I will wake up and I'll know

That I've got to begin again
Though I don't know how to start
Yes, I've got to begin again
And it's hard


Buffy smiled idly as she felt Spike’s fingers running through her hair. It was comforting – his touch soothed her more than she would have expected, and the painful emotions of the evening’s patrol diminished slightly. They didn’t need to talk for him to understand. She could feel it in the weight of his arm around her shoulders, the curve of his body against hers, the lightness of his fingers combing her tangled curls. He knew without asking, and he pleaded with her without speaking.

Hell, maybe it worked. Maybe he was the reason she always dusted them at the last minute, instead of giving in and giving up. The memory of his wild eyes and his shaking hands as he’d pulled that vamp off of her, the fury of his reaction, the utter brokenness as he’d told her he couldn’t lose her, not again.

She rested her cheek against his chest, not at all perturbed by his lack of breathing or a heartbeat. Years of dating a vampire had made the absence seem normal. Her fingers traced loopy circles on his tight black t-shirt, and she could feel his muscles tense beneath her fingertips. He was strength incarnate, tightly coiled power, energy flowing like a life force in that which did not live.

He was her strength tonight.

Well it's been quite a while since I lifted my head
And I'm sure the light will hurt my eyes
I see the way that I been spendin' my days
And reality has caught me by surprise

I was dreamin' of tomorrow so I sacrificed today
And it sure was a grand waste of time
And despite all the truth that's been thrown in my face
I just can't get you out of my mind


Spike gazed at Buffy lying on his chest. She looked calm and serene, more peaceful than she’d been when she walked in. More peaceful than he’d seen her in a long time. Yet she managed to stir up a tempest inside him. His skin tingled under his shirt everywhere her fingers touched, his stomach churned with longing for her, and his head spun as her scent engulfed him. It was exquisite torture, to be so near to her, to want nothing from her except her continued existence, and yet to want everything at the same time.

And I've got to begin again
Though I don't know how to start
Yes, I've got to begin again
And it's hard


When the song ended, Buffy glanced up at Spike and smiled. “You trying to tell me something?”

“Thought it was fitting.” He tried to keep his emotions under control as her proximity slowly drove him mad with desire. He wanted to stay frozen in this moment, with her cradled in his arms forever, but the loud click of the tape reaching its end startled Buffy, and she sat up quickly. Spike felt suddenly cold from the loss of her body heat.

“I can’t believe you listen to Billy Joel,” she said. “My mom used to listen to Billy Joel.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“Just doesn’t seem like your style.”

He made a face at her. “Lived through a hundred and twenty bloody years, pet. You think I only listened to punk rock?”

“It’s the hair. And the leather.” She cocked her head to the side and studied him. “You ever think about changing your look?”

“Changed it plenty of times. Probably will again, someday. Whenever I feel like making myself into something new.”

“Isn’t that hard? Adopting a persona that’s not really you? Making people believe you’re something that you’re not?”

He got the distinct impression she was talking about herself now. He tried to think of a response that would help her to cope with the double life her friends were forcing her to lead, but she spoke up again before he could put it into words.

“Spike?”

“Yes, pet?” Spike leaned forward.

“You got anything to drink?” The gleam in her eye and the tone of her voice suggested that she meant alcohol, and Spike slumped back disappointed. Third time this week. He should have known, but he’d gotten lost in the sweetness of this rare moment. He wanted desperately to take away her pain, but he wished she’d let him do it another way.

He sighed and shoved himself off the sofa to get out his stash of liquor. “The usual, then?”
 
 
Chapter #10 - Announcement
 
Chapter 9: Announcement

“Kill it! Kill it!” Willow shrieked from the corner of the Magic Box where she’d gone to hide.

Buffy grabbed a book off the table and swung it, connecting with the side of a bookshelf. She tried not to think of what Giles would say about her treatment of very old sacred texts.

Dawn peered out from behind the counter. “Did you get it?”

“I think I just made it angry.”

“Hit it again!” Willow ordered.

Buffy looked over at her friend. “Can’t you kill it with some kind of magic?”

Willow’s eyes widened with realization. In her panic, she’d forgotten all about her powers. “Oh, yeah… wait, where’d it go?”

“Over here!” cried Dawn, ducking back down as the thing whizzed past her head.

The bell tinkled as Spike walked in the magic shop. “What the bloody hell are you doing?” he asked, taking in the scene before him.

“Killing a bug,” said Buffy. With lightning slayer speed, she punched the wall, leaving a gaping hole. She looked down at the squished bug on her fist. “There. All gone.”

Spike just shook his head. “Women.”

“It was a big bug!” Dawn said defensively, emerging from her hiding place. “All hairy and flying…”

“Lots of legs!” Willow added, coming back to the table. “Spidery. I hate spiders.”

Spike stared at each of them in turn. “You fight real demons and monsters every day, and you’re scared of a teensy little spider?”

“A flying spider,” Dawn corrected him.

“Willow’s got a thing,” said Buffy.

“High school. Very traumatic,” said Willow. “Had to do with nightmares manifesting. I don’t like to talk about it.” She paused, then added, “Also, there was a frat party thing. Overall, not big with the spiders.”

Spike just nodded. Women, he repeated, this time to himself. Completely out of their minds.

Xander and Anya came up from the basement, looking disheveled and awkwardly straightening their clothes. The others didn’t even need to ask what they’d been doing.

Extremely uncomfortable with the situation, Xander explained anyway. “We were just, uh, looking for some… toad’s eyes.”

Anya, never one to be shy about the topic of sex, opened her mouth to contradict him, but a glare from Xander stopped her. She spread her empty hands in front of her. “Couldn’t find them,” she said with a shrug. Xander breathed a small sigh of relief. Perhaps the let’s keep private matters private lectures were starting to take.

“You were gone an awfully long time,” said Dawn.

“Well, we’re… very thorough,” Xander replied, wondering whether the teenager understood what had really been going on in the basement. “With the searching.”

Spike smirked. “I bet you are.”

“Spike, hello!” Anya greeted him a little too cheerfully, to compensate for the awkward atmosphere. “How are you doing?”

“A bit peckish.” Spike eyed the ex-demon. “You?”

Anya faltered under his gaze. “Well… a lot more skittish than I was a minute ago.”

Spike shrugged. “Funny that.” He flinched as Buffy smacked his arm, but he could see she was suppressing a smile.

“You seem better today,” he said, in a low voice only she could hear.

Buffy brushed him aside with a wan smile. “Hey, Ahn,” she said. “Have you had time to go over all that financial stuff?” Buffy’s utter lack of mathematical skills had led her to ask the resident capitalist for assistance with all the bills and expenses that had accrued while she was dead.

“Yes, I did.” Anya grabbed Buffy’s paperwork from behind the counter. “Are you familiar with the concept of debt?”

Her forehead wrinkled with worry. “What do you mean?”

“It means you’re gonna have to get yourself a job mowing lawns after school,” said Xander.

“But Buffy already has a job,” Dawn said. “She’s the Slayer.”

“That’s not a job, that’s a calling.” Buffy plopped down at the table next to Anya, who started to go over her money troubles. “An unpaid calling.”

“You should charge,” Anya suggested. “For the slaying.”

“I can’t charge innocent people for saving their lives.”

“Angel does,” said Willow, only half paying attention as she read her book.

Spike snorted. “He would. Poofter.”

Buffy sighed, ignoring the comments about Angel for the moment. “No, I need to find a real job.”

The bell jingled again, announcing the arrival of Giles and Tara, the former for a training session with Buffy and the latter to pick up her girlfriend. “Hey, guys,” Tara greeted them. “What’s going on?”

“Buffy needs a job,” said Dawn.

“We could always send you to work,” Xander teased her. “Child labor laws be damned.”

“I’m telling you,” insisted Anya. “If you charged even a small fee for each person you saved, you’d be rich.”

“Making a profit from protecting people from the forces of evil?” Giles asked, horrified.

“Yes, ladies and gentlemen. Heartless, exploitative capitalism. That’s the girl I’m going to marry.” A panicky expression crossed Xander’s face as he realized what had slipped out, and the others looked from him to Anya in surprise, trying to judge whether he’d been joking or serious.

“Xander…” Anya’s lips twitched into a smile.

Xander shrugged at her, then addressed the group. The gang was all here, he supposed now was as good a time as any to tell them. “Guess what? Anya and I are getting married.”

He was reminded of an animal pen at feeding time as all four of his female friends squealed, then rushed to hug him and his fiancée. Even Buffy, who hadn’t taken much pleasure in anything lately, managed to summon up enough joy for the happy couple. Giles and Spike hung back, retaining some of their manly dignity and shaking Xander’s hand once he’d disentangled himself from the women.

Anya pulled the engagement ring out of her pocket, where she always carried it, ever since he’d given it to her all those months ago. She allowed Xander to slip it onto her left ring finger, eliciting a fresh round of squeals from the girls as they crowded around to see.

Once the hugs and congratulations had been distributed, the group dispersed, promising to celebrate the engagement properly very soon. Willow and Tara set off for home, with Dawn in tow, and Giles and Buffy retreated to the training room. Spike had slipped out unnoticed sometime during the excitement, leaving Xander and Anya alone to close up the store.

Xander took his future bride into his arms and kissed her forehead. “Happy now, sweetie? You get to wear that ring now.”

“Thank you.” Anya gazed up into his eyes. “It was the sex, wasn’t it?” He raised his eyebrows. “The sex, downstairs. Convinced you to do it.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Nah. It just came out so easily.” He wrapped his arms tighter around her and pulled her close. “I thought it had to be all perfect, you know? Like there was a special moment. But, as it turns out, whenever I say it, that makes it special.”

Anya made a sexy pouty face at him. “And you were so worried.” She leaned in to kiss him, but turned her head sharply as something caught her attention. Xander’s lips smushed into her ear as she demanded, “Why is there a hole in the wall?”
 
 
Chapter #11 - The Natural Order of Things
 
Chapter 10: The Natural Order of Things

There was a vampire nearby, she could sense it.

Buffy stalked through the cemetery, stake raised and ready for dusting. She peered around headstones and monuments, looking for any vamps that might be hiding, but found nothing.

She paused, listening. No sound, but vampires could be stealthy, and that tingle at the back of her neck was getting stronger. She spun around quickly and charged, hoping that whoever was following her would be caught off guard.

“Ahhh!” She nearly crashed into the leather-coated figure and let out a startled cry. The vampire, as surprised as she was, jumped backward with a yell.

“Spike! Sneak up on me like that again, and you’ll find yourself getting intimate with Mr. Pointy.”

“Sorry, love, but I don’t get intimate with things whose names start with Mister,” Spike shot back, quickly regaining his composure. “I’m all manly man, you know.” He grinned at her and licked his lower lip, which earned him the Summers eye-roll.

“I almost staked you,” she warned him. Then, muttering, she added, “Probably should have.”

“That hurts, love, after all we’ve been through.” He didn’t really mean it, though. Deep down, he was glad to see the Slayer up to trading insults with him again. It meant she was coming back to normal, back to the way she was before she died. While he enjoyed this new willing-to-spend-time-with-him Buffy, he couldn’t bear the unhappiness and the desperate need for escape that seemed to envelope her, and her dangerous familiarity for his liquor supply was starting to frighten him. He found himself actually preferring looking-for-any-reason-to-stake-him Buffy to the despairing creature she’d become.

Buffy just rolled her eyes again at his sarcasm. He knew she wasn’t going to stake him. She knew she wasn’t going to stake him. Sometimes she wondered why they bothered even pretending to play the roles. Appearances? Habit? Or because it was comforting, in the wake of their strange and unnatural friendship, to return every so often to the natural order of things.

“What do you want, Spike?” She turned and started walking again, knowing he would follow.

“Just out for a little walk,” he replied, catching up and sauntering along beside her. “A little fight if I can find it. Much like yourself.” He was careful not to let on that he’d been following her, staying out of range of her senses – or so he thought, until she noticed his presence and started stalking him. It had slowly become a habit, when he couldn’t force down his fears, couldn’t wait till she’d finished patrol for her to come to him, wondering if this would be the night she wouldn’t come, if tomorrow would be the day they’d find her body drained or broken by some monster she hadn’t cared to fight. So he’d stay hidden and just watch her, never revealing himself but always ready, speeding back to his crypt as soon as she turned in that direction, to be waiting for her when she arrived none the wiser.

Buffy sighed and accepted that she now had company on her patrol. “Giles thinks there’s a vamp gang hanging around. Lot of missing people lately, a few turning up with bite marks. Heard anything?”

“No, but if I do, I’ll be sure to tell you, so you can go kill some more of my friends.” Spike pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up.

“Hey, you wanted to play on the side of good, remember? You help us out, and I don’t kill you. Isn’t that how it works?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Spike exhaled smoke to disguise the smile on his face. “So there’s a whole gang of vampires out there, and Watcher boy sends you out alone? ’S not very smart of him. Think he’s losing his touch.”

Buffy shot him a sidelong glance. “I wanted to be alone.”

Spike feigned contrition. “Oh, am I bothering you, love?”

“You can stay.”

For some reason, Spike was the only one who didn’t bother her these days. She felt like he was the only one who understood her. None of her friends could possibly know what it was like to come back from the dead, to have felt completed, finished – and then to be pulled violently back to earth.

But Spike knew. And he didn’t seem to mind listening to her talk about it. Or letting her drink herself senseless and then carrying her home. She knew she shouldn’t be encouraging him in his crazy idea that he was in love with her, but she didn’t know who else to turn to.

Spike snapped his fingers in front of her face to get her attention. She shot him a dirty look, and was about to chew him out, but realized his finger was to his lips in a silent “shh” gesture. Cigarette in hand, he motioned to the bushes ahead of them, where she could see a vampire lurking. She pulled out her stake and started to move toward the vamp, but Spike grabbed her arm and held her back, shaking his head. Crouching behind a large monument, they watched as the vampire came out from behind the bush and headed toward a stone family-sized mausoleum. As soon as the vampire went inside, Spike turned to Buffy.

“Think we found our gang, love. You ready?”

She glared at him. “We can’t just bust in. We don’t even know how many there are.”

“Well, do a little recon, pet.” Spike waved her off and brought the cigarette back up to his lips. “You dated the big military man.”

Buffy smacked him upside the head as she headed toward the mausoleum, taking pleasure in the fact that he couldn’t hit back or his chip would activate. Spike lunged after her, his hand clenched in a fist, but settled for shaking the fist angrily to avoid a migraine.

Sneaking around the mausoleum, she found a broken stained glass window and peered in. She could see four vamps who appeared to have nested in the building and at least two human corpses.

Scurrying back to Spike, she gave him the thumbs-up sign. “Four of them,” she whispered, crouching down next to him.

Spike scoffed, snubbing the cigarette out on the monument. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Four was nothing. He could fight four by himself. But he’d let Buffy come along. She was the Slayer, after all.

Ever the gentleman, he even let her bust in the door first. “Sorry, guys. Party’s over,” she said, catching the vampires’ attention before launching herself at the closest one. Spike ran in after her, grabbing a second vamp and tossing him into the wall. He spun around and took out another with a punch as the vamp tried to attack him from behind. Spike kicked him to the ground for good measure, then grabbed an entire wooden chair and shoved it into his chest, with one of the legs right through the heart.

“Shouldn’t leave wood around, mate,” he cautioned the other vampire, the one he’d thrown against the wall. “Too tempting to intruders.”

Buffy, meanwhile, was pummeling the first vampire she’d reached. While both she and Spike were preoccupied, the fourth vamp snatched up the now-dusty chair and broke it against Buffy’s body. Momentarily caught off guard, she quickly used it to her advantage, crouching down to grab a chair leg and ducking a punch from the vampire she’d been pummeling. She jumped up and returned the punch, knocking him backwards, then swooped in with the chair leg and staked the vamp.

Spike’s vamp was up and running for the door. Spike chased him and tackled him to the ground before he could get out. He flipped the vampire onto his back and sat on him, punching him repeatedly. The vampire launched himself upward, throwing Spike off him, and made for the door again. Spike was about to run after him, but a cry from Buffy stopped him. He turned to see a vampire standing over her prone form, a two-by-four in his hands.
 
 
Chapter #12 - Back to Business
 
Chapter 11: Back to Business

With a roar, Spike hurled himself at the vamp, knocked the two-by-four to the ground, and grasped the vampire’s neck. A swift jerk and a crack, and the body went limp and then disintegrated, along with the head in Spike’s hands.

He turned to Buffy, who was picking herself up off the ground. “You all right, love?” He gently touched the wound on her temple where the vampire had hit her with the two-by-four. It was already starting to bruise, and a trickle of blood was beginning to dampen her hair.

Buffy was startled by how tender his touch was, but brushed him away. “I’ll be fine.” Almost reluctantly, she added, “Thanks.” She hated it when she needed saving, but Spike always seemed to be there when it happened.

“The one got away. Could’ve bloody had ’im, but I didn’t want to see you get whacked.” He was momentarily distracted as he realized Buffy’s blood was now on his fingertips and he resisted the urge to lick them.

“I’ll go after him.” Buffy strode for the door.

“You sure you’re up to it, Slayer?” Spike gave his fingers a quick taste while her back was turned. The slayer blood made him feel all tingly. “You’re not looking so hot.”

Buffy’s reply was cut off by her ringing cell phone. Dawn’s constant begging for a phone had finally pulled her into the 21st century – and she figured they couldn’t be bad to have for safety reasons, even if it was one more expense they couldn’t really afford.

“Hey, Xand,” she said. “What is it?... Where?... I’ll be right – no, don’t call the police. I wanna check out the scene before… I’ll be right there.”

“When did you get one of those bloody things?” Spike asked her as soon as she hung up.

Buffy didn’t answer him, her face grave. “Change of plans. Xander and Anya found something… a body.”

*****

“We called you first,” Xander told Buffy as she rushed to meet him and Anya. Spike trailed behind, scoping out the area, sniffing for blood. “We weren’t sure if it was a demon-slash-supernatural thing or not, but figured it was best to let you know… What happened to you?”

“I got hit in the head.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “I’m so glad I’m the one who gets called first for this stuff. Where’s the girl?”

“Over here.” Xander gestured for Buffy to follow a little ways into the wooded area behind his apartment complex.

Spike had already found his way there and was crouching beside the body. He took in a few deep breaths. “Her blood’s been completely drained.”

Xander made a disgusted face. “Isn’t it great how he can tell that just by sniffing her?”

“Xander, please.” Buffy turned to Spike. “Vampire?”

Spike shook his head, turning the girl’s head to expose her neck – her throat had been slit from ear to ear, no trace of bite marks. “Oh, God,” Buffy muttered.

“Here, look at this,” said Spike. She knelt down next to him and examined the girl’s arms, where various symbols had been carved into her flesh.

“Some kind of ritual sacrifice,” Anya said, peering over their shoulders. “A blood-letting.”

Buffy nodded. “Whoever did this must have gotten blood on them. Spike, can you track it?”

He was up and moving before she’d even gotten the words out. “All I’m getting is… here.” He stopped a few feet away, the scent of blood overwhelming him, and started kicking leaves aside to reveal a small circle of stones. “This is where they drained her.”

The others gathered around the spot, looking for clues. “What’s that?” asked Xander, pointing to a small object on the ground near the stones.

Anya picked it up and examined it. “A talisman. Could have been used to summon a demon.”

“We need to find out who did it,” said Buffy.

“And… what kind,” Spike added, glancing at her.

Xander looked at him, confused. “What kind of what?”

“Demon, silly,” Anya answered, in a teasing tone of voice. “There are different kinds, you know.”

Buffy stood up and backed away from the scene, giving her orders in a take-charge manner. “All right, I’ll call Giles and head to the magic shop. You guys should report this to the police and then meet us there.”

“We should call Will and Tara, too,” Xander suggested.

“Dawn’s over there now. Spike?” She looked up at him with eyes that said she was about to take advantage of him – and not in the way Spike would prefer. “Could you go pick up Dawn for me? Take her home, and tell the girls to meet us at the shop.”

“Sure thing, pet. Only… you’re sure you’re all right? You had a pretty bad knock on the head back there.”

“I’m fine,” Buffy insisted. “Go.” As he turned to leave she added, “And… thank you.”

Before she left, Buffy kicked the leaves back to cover the stones. No need for the police to find that.

*****

Spike was starting to get used to this routine. It wasn’t the first time he’d been called on to pick up, drop off, or baby-sit Dawn. During the time Buffy was dead, he’d kept his promise to her, taking care of Dawn the best he could. And even after Buffy came back, when there was no danger from Dawn being the Key, she still asked Spike to protect her little sister. He was the only one strong enough to fight off the beasties they all knew lurked in the dark in Sunnydale. Still, even after he’d proven himself time and again, Buffy’s friends were wary of her choice of baby-sitter. At least Willow and Tara liked him – the others didn’t trust him.

“Hi, Tara,” he said, when she answered the door at their new apartment.

“Spike,” she responded with surprise. He heard Dawn in the background echo his name.

“I’m here to pick up Little Bit. Slayer’s got a new crisis, needs you birds down at the Magic Box.”

“Oh… okay.” Tara nodded, standing aside to let Spike in.

He just stood in the doorway awkwardly. “Uh… new place.” He pointed to the invisible barrier keeping him out. “You’ve gotta…”

“Oh! Right.” Tara made an exaggerated welcome gesture for emphasis. “Come in, Spike.” With the barrier eliminated, he stepped inside, and he could see Willow and Dawn sitting on the floor, Dawn’s homework spread out around them. There were still cardboard boxes stacked around the room, yet to be unpacked from the move.

“Hey, Will,” he said. “Nice digs.”

“Thanks. We decided not to go with the one with the rats.”

“Good choice.”

“This from the guy who lives in a crypt,” said Dawn.

Spike growled at her playfully. “Come on, kiddo, pack up your things, Uncle Spike’s gonna take you home.”

“I’m not a kid,” Dawn protested, though she could never really be mad at Spike for any of his nicknames for her. She loved hanging out with him, to the point that it worried Buffy. She didn’t know why – Buffy was only a year older than Dawn when she started dating Angel. Dawn didn’t see anything wrong with hanging out with a vampire – as long as it was a good vampire, like Angel or Spike. She knew Spike would never try to hurt her – couldn’t if he wanted to, in fact – even if he occasionally threatened to bite her in order to keep her from misbehaving.

“So what’s the new evil?” Willow asked.

“Not sure. All they’ve got so far is a dead girl.”

“Eww. Okay, I’m ready,” said Dawn.

Spike glanced down to make sure she’d collected all her things and noticed a book still lying on the floor. “Missed one, Bit,” he said, but even as he bent to pick it up, he realized it wasn’t a textbook. The cover, void of a title, was made of aged, cracked leather, the pages yellowed parchment.

“That’s not mine,” Dawn confirmed, shouldering her backpack.

He knew he was in the witches’ apartment, and he told himself there was absolutely nothing unusual about them having spellbooks lying around. Just a simple once-over of the bookshelves revealed a collection that was starting to rival Giles’s own personal stock. But something in him prompted him to slide his fingers along the top of the pages, catching the marker and opening to the page that had been flagged.

“Oh, that’s nothing –” Willow started, a touch of fear in her voice and her movements as she reached out to take the book from Spike’s hands. Too late, as his eyes flicked angrily up from the page, challenging her, demanding an explanation, and almost begging her to tell him he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion.

He closed the book with a snap and opened his mouth to speak, but caught himself as he spared a glance toward Dawn, waiting expectantly for him to take her home. “Won’t be a mo’, love,” he reassured the girl before grasping Willow roughly by the arm and manhandling her as much as the chip would allow into the bedroom she and Tara shared.

“It’s not what you think!” she insisted, the moment the door was closed.

He stared at her, his eyes cold. “I think it’s bloody well exactly what I think.”
 
 
Chapter #13 - Truth
 
Chapter 12: Truth

“Something’s wrong with her!” Willow’s voice trembled with a fierce desperation that spoke of the depth of her emotion and inner struggle. “I know something’s wrong, but she won’t tell me!”

“So you just thought you’d truth spell it out of her, is that it?” He kept his voice down, so as not to be heard by the two in the living room, but he didn’t bother to mask the fury he felt. How dare this arrogant little girl presume to manipulate her best friend into revealing what she felt it important to keep secret?

Willow’s silence was all he needed to confirm his suspicions.

She glanced down at the carpet, looking every bit the frightened, timid little girl she’d been when he first came to Sunnydale. “She’s been so different, since we brought her back. So… distant. I need her to talk to me.”

“You ever think about what she needs?”

Her head snapped up accusingly. “She’s my best friend.”

“Then maybe you ought to show her a bit more respect.”

Willow sank down on the bed, drawing deep breaths and blinking back tears. “I’m just so scared, Spike. Scared there’s something wrong and it’s my fault.”

He sighed, fighting the conflicting urges within him. He wanted to yell, It is your fault! But he knew that would only make matters worse, and to do so would be breaking Buffy’s trust as surely as the witch’s truth spell would. He wanted to tell her everything, about heaven, about Buffy’s depression, about her nightly dance with death when she patrolled. It killed him inside to see the people she was closest to being pushed away, being so ignorant to her true state of mind, when what she really needed was to be loved and supported and made to want to live again. Without her friends, the burden fell entirely to him, and he felt absurdly inadequate for such a task.

But he could never, never break his promise to her.

He also felt an alien desire to comfort the girl. He could sense her sincere intentions through the fear and the defensiveness, and buggered if he hadn’t been there plenty of times himself. Completely wrong-headed, but trying to do the right thing. She really was trying to help her friend, the only way she knew how.

Someone really needed to teach Red some lessons about the proper uses of magic.

But that wouldn’t be him, and it wouldn’t be tonight. He shook his head, at a loss. “She’ll tell you when she’s ready.” Then his gaze connected with hers, and he held her eyes and said, “And if I find you’ve done anything to – I’ll rip your throat out.”

There was no malice in his voice, just brutal honesty and the fiercest loyalty to the woman he loved. Willow nodded hesitantly, rising from the bed and wiping unshed tears from her eyes. Wearily, Spike said, “Come on, Red. Slayer’s waiting for you birds down at the magic shop.”

He left the room without another word and collected Dawn, who barely had time to call her goodbyes over her shoulder before she was running to catch up with Spike.

“Okay,” she asked him as they walked towards home. “What happened in there?”

“Will and Tara helping you with your homework?” he responded, blatantly ignoring her question.

“…Yeah.”

“What’d you learn?”

“How to levitate things.”

Spike turned toward her, a hint of anger in his eyes. “You shouldn’t be messing with that kind of mojo. It could be dangerous.”

She made a face at his apparent overreaction. “It’s okay, Spike. I wasn’t any good at it anyway. I couldn’t even lift the pencil.”

*****

Spike was asleep on the couch when Buffy came home, a fire poker clenched in one hand. As soon as she walked in the door, he leapt off the sofa, waving the fire poker in her direction. “One more step and I’ll beat you to death!”

Buffy stifled a giggle and flipped the lights on. “It’s me, Spike.”

He lowered his weapon. “I knew that,” he replied, his bravado masking his sheepishness. “Was just… showing you I was ready, is all.”

“Ready for what?”

“Anything.” He placed the fire poker back in its proper place. “That’s me. Spike – ready for anything.”

Buffy shook her head and smiled. “You didn’t have to stay. I’m sure Dawn’s fine. Vampires can’t come in unless invited.”

“Yeah, well, demons can,” he huffed. He didn’t want to admit that his main reason for staying was so that he could see Buffy again that night.

“You can go home now, Spike.” The smile was still on her face. God, he loved that smile, and it had been all too rare lately. Maybe a new Big Bad was just what she needed to get her mind off of other things.

“How’s your head?” he asked.

“For the millionth time, I’m fine.”

“Let me see.”

Buffy obediently stood still as he placed one hand on her chin and the other cradling the back of her head, and turned her head so he could see the wound. There was only a small cut, but the entire area was black and blue, and dried blood had caked in her hair around her temple.

“I could clean it up for you.”

Buffy pulled her head out of his grasp. “Eww!”

“What? Oh, come on! I didn’t mean –” Spike shook his head. “What d’you think I am?”

“A vampire.”

“I meant,” he said through gritted teeth, “I could wash it, you know? With water, and disinfectant, or whatever.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Is Dawn in bed?” Buffy gestured upstairs to where her sister should be sleeping.

“That she is. I’ll leave you to her.” Spike turned and headed for the door, when something occurred to him. He was sure she would’ve mentioned it if anything had happened, but he needed to make sure. “Hey, you, uh, figure things out tonight? Any big… revelations?”

Buffy stopped on her way up the stairs. “No.”

He breathed a sigh – of relief, though she didn’t know to take it as such. Guess Red had some survival instinct after all. “You will,” he said, nodding to her, and then he was gone. Buffy just shook her head as she headed upstairs.
 
 
Chapter #14 - Lime and Salt
 
Chapter 13: Lime and Salt

“Dawn!” Buffy shouted from the bathroom, where she was busy applying her makeup. “Are you ready yet?”

Dawn stuck her head in the doorway and made a face. “I would be if you ever stopped hogging the bathroom.”

“You’re gonna be late for school – again.” Buffy stepped to the side so her sister could brush her teeth at the sink.

“Ready for your first day of work?” Dawn asked through her toothbrush.

“Yeah.” Buffy winced as she gingerly touched the bruise on her temple from the previous night’s fight.

Dawn mumbled something unintelligible at her, the toothpaste giving her a rabid foaming-at-the-mouth look. Buffy elbowed her aside and grabbed her foundation. “Stop talking, you’re drooling.”

Dawn rinsed and spat before she tried to speak again. “Where’s the temp agency sending you?”

“Some insurance company.” Buffy dabbed makeup on her wound as Dawn examined her handiwork with skepticism.

“You’re never gonna hide that.”

She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. “Great, just great. First day at work, and already I’m fueling the battered woman rumor.”

“Just wear a hat.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and shoved her sister playfully. “Get your things. Xander’s gonna be here to pick us up soon.”

*****

Buffy trudged home from her first day of work, thoroughly frustrated and cursing her life. She’d held out hope that getting a real job would help her feel connected to the world, give her something to do with her days instead of sitting around moping. Instead, she was reexamining her definition of hell. It now involved a cubicle, fluorescent lights, and a sales pitch. Forget the whole ripped-out-of-heaven depression, this job could make the cast of Up with People want to kill themselves.

As she passed the cemetery on the way home, she paused, considering, then headed for Spike’s crypt.

Spike glanced up from the TV when she came in, noting her office attire – a plain gray knee-length pencil skirt, blue blouse, and sensible pumps, much more conservative than he was used to seeing her dressed. “How’s my working girl?” He braced himself for a knock on the head for referring to her as “his” girl. But Buffy didn’t even seem to notice as she made a beeline for his alcohol.

“That good, eh?” He made a face she didn’t see and clicked off the television. Back to this again, I suppose, he grumbled to himself. She’d seemed so much better the past few days, he’d hoped they were past the binge drinking.

“Come to pinch my liquor again, have you?” He thought about putting his foot down, telling her no – that this had to stop before a bad habit turned into a dependency, but one look at her face and he always caved. He couldn’t deny her anything. Especially not when the alternative might be going out and getting herself killed. Better she be drunk and safe with him than out there courting death.

“I'm a telemarketer,” Buffy groaned in explanation.

Spike raised his eyebrows. “That is a reason to drink.”

She grabbed a few bottles and two shot glasses and brought them over to him. “I'm that annoying person who calls you and interrupts your dinner and mispronounces your name.”

Spike shook his head. “Makes me crazy, people bloody calling you all the time.” He looked pointedly at her as she kicked off her shoes and perched on the arm of his chair. “’S why I don't have a phone.”

“Also, you live in a crypt.” Buffy downed her shot and then gagged.

“Hey, I have a fridge and the telly,” he retorted, proud of his modern conveniences. “Could get a phone if I wanted.” He looked over at her and raised his eyebrows at the bug-eyed, puckered-lips expression she was making.

“Ugh, that’s nasty,” she informed him.

He assumed she meant the alcohol. “’S tequila, pet. Meant to be done with lime and salt.”

“I don’t suppose you have those lying around?” She glanced skeptically around the crypt.

“Can’t say as I do.”

Buffy just sighed and went back to her griping. “Do you have any idea how many people hung up on me today? I think I’ve been hung up on more times today than I have in the entire rest of my life before this job.”

Spike poured them each another shot of tequila and handed one to her. “Maybe this gig isn’t for you, pet.”

She swallowed the liquor and made another face as it burned her throat. “What else am I going to do?”

“Well, you’re strong… and fast,” said Spike, thinking out loud. “And your fighting skills are bloody brilliant… great with weapons, killer aim with a firearm…” He paused. “Have you thought about maybe a career in, I dunno, law enforcement or something?”

Buffy leaned over and punched him hard in the face.

“Ow!” he yelled, pressing his fingers to his nose. “What was that for?”

“Don’t go there.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“What’s the matter? Struck a nerve, did I?”

“Career week in high school.” Buffy rolled her eyes as she took a swig from the tequila bottle. “Hey, you were there.”

Spike took the bottle from her and filled his shot glass. Funny how quickly she got over the bad taste when she wanted to drown her sorrows. “Is this another one of those stories that ends with me massacring a whole bunch of people?”

“No, actually it’s one of those stories that ends with me kicking your ass.” Buffy snatched the bottle back. “But hey, all ancient history now, right, sweetie?” She gave him a saccharine smile.

“Yeah,” he groused, clearly grumpy at being reminded of his failure.

“Although... that was a particularly spectacular ass-kicking on my part.”

Spike sucked in his cheeks, catching on to her needling. He would allow her to gloat, but just this once, and only because she had a bad day. “Which one was this again?” he humored her, prompting her to tell the story.

“Well, you sent the Order of Taraka after me – by the way, Bug Guy? Super gross. And you kidnapped Angel to do that ritual to heal Dru. And then we stormed the church – remember? With Kendra. Two Slayers, no waiting? And then I kicked your ass to kingdom come,” she finished brightly.

“You dropped an organ on me.”

“Yep. Some of my best work.” Buffy took another gulp from the bottle in her hand.

Spike was quickly tiring of making her feel better. Of all their battles over the years, that particular incident had left him the most scarred – physically and emotionally. So many horrible things had followed in its wake, with him being confined to a wheelchair while the newly un-ensouled Angelus moved in on his Dru. Angelus had broken him all over again, destroying everything he’d built in the hundred years since he’d taken his first Slayer and made himself a force to be reckoned with. The bloody chair helped, of course – Angelus never would’ve gotten the best of him if he hadn’t been crippled. But Dru… that was what hurt the most. He could take the teasing and the beatings, but to see his princess go flitting back to “Daddy” without a moment’s hesitation – that was when he’d realized that Dru didn’t really love him. Had probably never really loved him. And yet, she owned him, possessed him so thoroughly – much as the petite blonde at his side possessed him now – that it didn’t matter. He’d still risk his life for her, team up with his most hated enemy for her, save the bloody world for her. All with the shattered remains of a broken heart that ached to be loved even a fraction of what he felt for her.

He slumped back in his chair and took the bottle away from Buffy, taking a long draught to drown his own sorrows. He had to admit, as a method, he couldn’t fault it.

“Can we please go back to talking about your crummy job?”
 
 
Chapter #15 - Revelations
 
Chapter 14: Revelations

Several drinks and much complaining later, they were both sitting on the floor, leaning against Spike’s chair. Spike heard a tinny melody, and at first was convinced it was just in his head, a little tequila-song in his brain. Then he looked over at Buffy, whose head was cocked to the side, as if she was listening as well.

“Whazzat noise?” he asked her.

She looked puzzled for a minute, then her eyes widened with realization. “Phone!” she said, loudly and triumphantly, pulling it out of her pocket. “’S Willow.” She started to answer it, but Spike snatched it out of her hand.

“Best not t’ talk when you’re this hammered. Lord knows what you’d say.” He waited for the phone to stop ringing, then handed it back to her. She fumbled with it for a few moments, then finally got it set on silent and slipped it back into her pocket.

Buffy groped drunkenly for her shot glass, turning the bottle upside down above it. Only a few drops of liquid fell into the glass. “Empty,” she pouted. She drank what little was left then reached for another bottle, nearly toppling over as she did so.

Spike took the bottle out of her hand. “Oh, no. I’m cutting you off.”

She pouted again. “Why?”

He steeled himself against the temptation to take her protruding lower lip into his mouth. “Because I don’t wanna be carryin’ your sorry ass home again’s why.”

Buffy gave him a suggestive smile and leaned closer. “Get me drunk ’nuff an’ you won’ have to,” she said, her voice husky and her words slurred. She started to crawl onto his lap, her hands grasping his black T-shirt. “I’ll stay here… with you.” She pressed her body clumsily against his, her skirt riding up to reveal her slender thighs.

Before he realized what he was doing, his hands were skating down from her hips, seeking out that forbidden soft skin. As his fingers brushed past the hem of her skirt, he came to his senses and gently pushed her off, ignoring the fireworks show that was happening in his lower region. “Now I know you’ve had too much to drink.” And so have I, he thought. He pulled her unsteadily to her feet and looked around for her shoes, a part of him cursing his Victorian sense of propriety. “Come on, love, we’re goin' home.”

Buffy gripped Spike’s leather coat as she tottered along, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. Spike feared that if he removed his arm, she might go tumbling to the ground.

She gasped. “Demons!” she hissed, pointing ahead of them where, sure enough, two burly, horned demons were tromping down the middle of the street.

“Let’s get you home, kitten. You’re in no condition to fight. I’ll track ’em down later.”

“I can fight. I’m the Slayer!”

Spike winced as her loud declaration caught the attention of the demons, who started lumbering towards them. “Ah, wish you hadn’t said that, pet.” He quickly sized up the situation. He’d have to fight them both himself – Buffy barely had the coordination to walk.

“All right, you stay here an' try not to get in trouble, yeah?” He rolled his eyes and squared off against the demons, only to be laid out flat in ten seconds as one of them punched him.

“Bollocks,” he muttered, picking himself up. These buggers were strong. He glanced around for any kind of weapon. Seizing a stop sign, he pulled it out of the ground and swung it, clocking one of the demons with the octagon.

Buffy, meanwhile, refused to be passive, regardless of her state of inebriation. When the other demon came towards her, she attempted a roundhouse kick, promptly lost her balance, and fell down. Spike spotted her on the ground with the demon towering over her and ripped the metal sign off the pole he was holding. He threw it like a Frisbee, and it neatly decapitated the demon. He then turned around and jabbed the pole into the chest of the demon he’d already hit.

With both demons taken out, he pulled Buffy to her feet. “Let’s go,” he said, angry with himself for putting her in danger when she was practically defenseless. “Now.”

When they finally arrived at the Summers home, Spike was surprised to find the whole gang waiting for them.

“Buffy! We were so worried!” Willow exclaimed, as they all crowded around the late arrivals in the foyer, spilling over into the living room. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“We thought you’d stop by the Magic Box after work to do some more research,” said Tara, from her usual position hovering near Willow’s shoulder.

“I came home and you weren’t here.” This from Dawn, who was pushing her way to the front of the group. “We thought something had happened.”

“What? Like my boss turned out t’ be a demon an’ tried t’ kill me?” Buffy laughed, her words slurring together.

“Where were you, Buffy?” asked Giles, more concerned about her demeanor than her well-being, now that he knew she hadn’t been hurt.

“With Spike,” she replied. Spike started to open his mouth to speak but she interrupted him. “Drinking, with Spike.”

Giles stepped back. “Clearly,” he said, getting a whiff of the alcohol on her breath. “Buffy, this isn’t like you.”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“The drinking,” said Willow. “You passed out the other night. And Dawn says you’ve been sneaking in late at night drunk – when you were supposed to have been patrolling.”

“Don’ worry.” Buffy shook her head, then grabbed onto Spike when the room started tilting from side to side. “Sometimes I jus’ stop by, you know, after patrol.”

“This isn’t good, Buff,” said Xander. “Need I remind you of the CaveBuffy incident?”

“That was tolally – total – totally different.” Buffy waved away the suggestion with her hand. “That was beer… beer bad! This is tequila… oh, an’ sometimes bourbon.”

Giles rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can certainly see the distinction there.”

“No, really,” she insisted. “That beer was spiked by some crazy bartender guy. This is jus’ regular old alcohol… from Spike.” She giggled at her weak play on “spike” but even she knew that she’d have come up with a better pun if she weren’t so drunk.

Spike stepped up behind her and leaned over her shoulder. “Which you’ve been drinking in frighteningly large quantities,” he said, finding courage in the presence of her friends to admit what until then he’d been unable to. “Your friends are right, love. I shouldn’t have let it go this far.”

Buffy shot him a dirty look to express her displeasure at his betrayal. He was the one supplying the liquor, he should be on her side.

“Is something going on, Buff?” asked Xander.

“It’s jus’ really hard, y’know?” she tried to explain without really explaining. She fell back on her old faithful line. “Readjustin’ t’ life an’ everything. I can’t help ’f I need a li’l escape now an’ then.”

“You always do that!” Dawn burst out.

Buffy screwed up her face questioningly. “Do what?”

“You always act like living is such a burden. Like you can’t even stand to be around us.”

“It is a burden.” Buffy’s voice gained an edge to it and Dawn shrank back, looking at Buffy as if she’d slapped her.

“Buffy, we know that you’ve been through an awful lot,” said Giles. “I can only imagine what it’s like to be in hell –”

At that, Buffy finally snapped. “You don’ know what you’re talkin’ about!” Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or perhaps she’d just grown weary of lying. All she knew was that the words were fighting to come out, so she let them. “I wasn’t in hell, okay? I was in heaven. I was in heaven an’ you pulled me out.”

A stunned silence fell over the group as Buffy’s words sunk in. Willow’s lower lip began to quiver as she fought back tears, Tara hung her head, and Anya covered her mouth in shock. Dawn was so shaken that she sat down on the steps, having lost the ability to stand. Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, knowing he should have realized it sooner.

“Oh, God,” Xander breathed, his voice edged with guilt.

Willow looked from him to Buffy, then to Tara. “What have we done?” she whispered, groping for Tara’s hand and clutching it in hers.

Spike hung back near the front door. As the only one in the room who wasn’t hearing this news for the first time, he felt uncomfortable watching their reactions. He glanced over at Buffy, but stared down at his shoes when she tried to meet his gaze. A sense of guilt pricked at him, wondering if he’d done the right thing by keeping her confidence. They should have known. They should have known from the beginning, so they could help her instead of making things harder. Ashamed as he was to admit it, he felt a fair measure of relief that at least now the secret was out.

“I’m goin’ to bed.” Buffy turned and disappeared up the stairs, showing little concern for her friends, who were reeling from the blow she’d dealt them.

As the rest of the group erupted in concerned murmuring, Spike shot a glare at Willow and muttered, “There’s your soddin’ truth spell.” She stared at him, pain and sorrow etched on her face, until he slipped out the door unnoticed by the others.
 
 
Chapter #16 - Letting It Out
 
A/N: I upped the rating for this chapter, because Spike's a potty-mouth and drops the F-bomb.

Chapter 15: Letting It Out

Buffy sat by the grave, leaning against a nearby tombstone, waiting for the vampire to rise. Sure enough, she heard scratching and digging noises from below, and a figure began to emerge from the dirt. Grabbing her stake, Buffy jumped up and assumed a fighting position. She hesitated for a moment when she saw the vampire. Except for the lumpy brow and the fangs, she could have been somebody’s grandmother. Well, somebody’s evil grandmother.

Buffy resisted the voice in her head that said she shouldn’t hit the elderly and yelled, “Hey, Granny, over here!” As the old woman turned her amber eyes toward the Slayer, Buffy lunged in with the stake. Lightning fast, the woman caught her wrist and held it away from her chest. With a kick to the vampire’s stomach, Buffy freed herself and backed up a few steps.

“Pretty quick for someone your age,” she said, landing another kick to the old woman’s head, knocking her back into a tombstone. “But hey, only the good die young.” One more punch in the face and a stake to the heart, and Buffy was talking to dust. She took a deep breath, pocketed her stake, and headed out for one last loop around the cemetery before heading home.

She was in Spike’s cemetery, and without even noticing where she was going, she found herself, as usual, standing in front of his crypt. She hesitated for a moment, then decided to go in. She eased the door open and crept inside.

“Spike?” Buffy said into almost complete darkness. Usually, Spike had a torch or at least a candle burning. “Spike?” There was no answer to her call.

“Guess he’s not here,” she mumbled to herself, and the thought briefly crossed her mind that she was disappointed. Just as quickly, she discarded it. What did it matter if Spike was here? He was just a drinking buddy, and she didn’t think she should be doing that anymore.

She quickly made to leave, but paused in the entrance, one hand on the door handle. He always seemed to make her feel better somehow. His words, his touch, just his mere presence made her feel stronger, more alive. She turned again to look into the darkness and considered waiting for him. No, that was silly, she decided, and marched back out into the night. She shouldn’t be relying on cold comfort from the evil undead. With a sense of determination that felt more than a little forced, she started away from the crypt.

Buffy hadn’t taken more than five steps before she saw Spike heading towards her. Upon seeing her, the vampire grinned, his tongue sticking out slightly between his teeth. “Looking for me, love?”

Buffy shook her head. “Just on my way home.” She tried to brush past him, but he blocked her path.

“Running off in a bit of a hurry, Slayer. You must have wanted something.” He was testing her. There was only one thing she wanted lately when she came around his place, and after last night, he really didn’t think there ought to be any more of that. “Either that or you’re snooping around my place.”

“I wasn’t snooping.”

“Yeah?” Spike arched his scarred eyebrow. “Popped by for a visit, then?”

“Moment of weakness. But I decided I didn’t need you.”

Spike’s eyes glinted. “I always need you.” His voice was low and husky, and Buffy couldn’t have overlooked the sexual insinuation if she’d tried. Rolling her eyes, she again made a move to leave, but he caught her arm.

Mentally, Spike kicked himself. Fuck, but he was a jerk sometimes. An asshole on autopilot. The insults and lewd comments just rolled off his tongue before he could bite them back, even though he knew that wasn’t what she needed right now.

His eyes softened, as if to retract his suggestive comment. “What is it, love?”

Buffy sighed. “I needed to talk to someone.”

“Someone? Or me?”

“You’re the only one who’s talking to me at the moment,” she said with a shrug.

Spike nodded sympathetically and led her into the crypt. “Quite a bombshell you dropped on them last night. Sure it takes some getting used to. So how bad is it?” he asked, lighting candles as he went.

“Bad. Giles is furious, but I think he can’t decide whether he’s more mad at Willow for bringing me back, or at me for not telling the truth sooner.”

Spike turned to face her, flickering candlelight reflected in his eyes. “It was stupid, what Red did.”

Buffy’s face contorted in confusion.

“Not that I’m not glad you’re here, pet. But the mojo she’s messing with… It could’ve been bad.” Suddenly he was at her side, having covered the distance between them with a vampire’s speed and grace, his hand cradling her face with infinite tenderness. “If you – if you’d’ve come back… wrong, I’d…” His voice hitched and his eyes darkened with unspoken possibilities. He shook his head and let his hand fall to his side, backing away from her slowly. He bent down and lifted the trapdoor in the floor, gesturing for Buffy to climb down.

When he reached the bottom after her, she said, “Well, if it makes you feel better, all four of them are feeling majorly guilty now, especially Will.”

It didn’t make him feel better at all, and he wondered if the lack of schadenfreude meant that he really was starting to become less evil. “And Niblet?” he asked, leading Buffy towards the plush sofa.

“She’s upset, I think because everyone else is upset.” She sighed and looked away from him. “But I think she understands now.”

He narrowed his eyes on her. “Understands what?”

“Why I’ve been acting the way I have.” She sank down on the sofa and wrapped her arms around her body. “Why I’ve been such a terrible sister.”

Spike shook his head. Gripping her shoulders, he forced her to look at him. “You’re not a terrible sister. You did the most incredible thing a sister could do for another.”

Buffy stared at the floor in order to avoid his penetrating gaze, studying the patterns on the Oriental rugs he'd put down to cover the dirty cement beneath. “But since I’ve been back…”

“It takes time, love. You’re in nine kinds of pain and you don’t even know it.” He began to gently stroke her hair, his fingers weaving in and out of her blonde locks, as tears involuntarily started to well up in her eyes. “I don’t expect you to be a hundred percent right away. But you just go on living, and the pain goes away, little by little.”

“Sometimes I just feel numb.” Buffy curled herself up tightly into a ball. “Like nothing in this life matters. But at the same time, it’s like I’m dying inside, slowly, and I don’t want to feel that much pain anymore.”

Spike’s heart broke for her. “C’mere,” he beckoned, holding out his arms. He didn’t actually expect her to – she was much too obstinate and stoic for that – but she surprised him by collapsing against him as a shuddering sob escaped from her. “It’s okay, you can cry.”

She did, weeping against his chest without speaking, while he held her.
 
 
Chapter #17 - Death Wish
 
Chapter 16: Death Wish

To say Spike was startled would be putting it mildly – he couldn’t remember ever seeing Buffy let go in front of him like this. The closest she’d ever been was… that night on the porch. When he’d come with the shotgun and she’d only just found out about her mum being sick. Even then she’d only sniffled a little while he sat there awkwardly, not knowing what to do or what to say. It occurred to him that if he hadn’t come along, she’d have been crying all alone. Probably the way she wanted it. He didn’t know how she was with Red or the others, but he’d wager she didn’t allow herself to be this upset in front of anyone. Something about being a Slayer meant she had to seem strong all the time.

When her sobbing had subsided to a soft snuffling, she managed to draw in a deep breath and pulled away from him.

“Buffy? Love?”

She didn’t respond, instead getting up off the sofa and heading toward the other side of the crypt. She paused at his battered, third-hand bookcase, studying the contents without really seeing them and said quietly, with her back to him, “Remember when you asked me what it was like?”

“Shh. You don’t have to talk about it.” He watched her from the sofa. He wanted nothing more than to go to her, to fold her back into his arms, but he sensed she needed her distance in order to be able to say what she wanted to say.

“It felt like… like everything made sense, finally. I knew what I was supposed to do. And I wasn’t afraid. Not like the first time. Because it was my decision. My gift. And I – I was okay. At peace.”

“I’m sorry, love.” His words were choked with his own sorrow.

She ran her fingertips along one of the shelves, leaving a trail in the dust. “Before… last year, you said – that thing, about every Slayer having a death wish?”

Spike squeezed his eyes shut, his hands clenched into fists in his lap, dreading what he might hear. “No, pet… no…”

“You were right.”

He stopped caring about giving her her bloody space and jumped off the couch. “No. Buffy…” His hands on her shoulders, he tried to turn her around to face him. “Buffy, look at me.” At first she resisted, then gave in, allowing herself to be spun round.

“I know what it’s like now,” she said, barely above a whisper. She met his eyes, and his heart wrenched at the depth of the pain he found there. Then she let herself be swallowed by his arms, let him lead her back to the sofa and cradle her like a child.

“Sometimes I think…” Buffy murmured, her voice muffled by his chest. “Sometimes I wish I’d stayed dead.” The weight of admitting that out loud restarted the tears. “Where I was, everything was so… Sometimes I want to die again.”

He drew in a sharp breath. He knew what it was like to yearn for death, had seen it twice before in a Slayer’s eyes, but he couldn’t stand hearing it coming from her. He couldn’t lose her again. He’d frightened her that night, opening her eyes to the darker side of what it meant to be a Slayer, but she’d come right back at him, unintentionally throwing his own fears back in his face with one simple phrase echoing through the centuries. You’re beneath me.

She was right. He was beneath her. Just look at him, what he’d done – he’d wanted to save her, but all he’d managed was to encourage a drinking problem and a row with her friends, and she was no closer to defeating her pain than when they’d started. He was failing her again. He couldn’t save her from Glory, and he couldn’t save her from herself.

He fumbled for the right thing to say – as always, the words seemed to twist and recoil in his pathetic poet’s brain, never falling into the right meter, the right rhyme, never seeming adequate to express his long-stilled heart. “Buffy, listen to me. I – I’m rotten at big speeches, right? But this is bloody important.” Her hitching gasps quieted, and he could feel her holding her breath, waiting. “You can do this, Buffy, you can live. You – you can make it through this. God, I sound like a bloody ponce, but it’s true. You’re stronger than you’ll ever know.” He pulled back and lifted her chin to look her in the eye. “And you have me. I know it’s not much of anything, love, but I’ll always be here, just like I promised.”

Buffy’s expression changed to one Spike couldn’t quite read. She seemed about to say something, but was interrupted by the chirpy ringtone of her cell phone. Spike groaned audibly. That damned thing always went off at the worst times. “I think you’re ringing, pet.”

She pulled the phone out of her pocket and glanced at the name that appeared on the screen. “It’s Will,” she said, sweeping the back of her hand across her tear-stained cheeks.

Like flipping a switch, she changed her demeanor, completely regaining her composure in the time it took her to flip open her phone to talk to Willow.

When she hung up, she told Spike, “They found the demon from the ritual. I have to go over there.”

He looked at her, concerned, realizing that less than two minutes ago, she’d been in tears. “Hey, you sure you’re up to this?”

Buffy pulled herself out of his embrace and stood up. All traces of vulnerability had vanished. “This is my job, Spike. It is what it is.” He started to speak, but she interrupted him. “No, it’s more than a job. This is… this is my life.”

“Can I help?”

“Ask around, see if anyone in town’s seen a dragon lately.”

*****

“So it’s really a dragon?” Buffy asked, conscious of the tension in the room. Willow wouldn’t even look at her, but the guilt radiated from her body language, and the rest of them were a myriad of darting glances and uncomfortable foot-shuffling and weight-shifting. “A real, actual dragon?”

“Yep,” replied Anya, as usual, the only one oblivious to the atmosphere.

“No chance that it’s of the Puff the Magic variety?”

“Not likely.” Giles skimmed the text, taking comfort in his expository role. “Big, flying lizard type, spits fire. It’s not from our dimension. One would have to summon it by opening a portal to another reality.” If he could talk about facts, about demons, then it saved him from having to talk about other things less pleasant than a fire-breathing dragon.

Xander looked over Giles’ shoulder at the picture in the book. “I’ve seen this before. It came out of the portal the night that… the night we fought Glory.”

An awkward hush fell over the group at the mention of that night, though it was difficult to discern from the general awkwardness that had taken over as soon as the Slayer walked in.

Buffy quickly broke the silence. “Swell. How do I kill it?”

Giles glanced back down at the book. “The traditional way you kill dragons, I suppose.” When Buffy raised her eyebrows, he continued, “Sword through the heart.”

“So why would somebody summon this thing?” asked Willow, still not looking up.

Xander shrugged. “Big ol’ yen for massive destruction, maybe?”

“We can figure that out after I kill it.” Buffy marched into the training room to grab the biggest sword she could find. “I’ll be back,” she said, emerging from the back. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“Well, hey,” Willow stammered, breaking out of her melancholy with a slight note of panic, jumping up from the table to block her path. “Where ya going so soon? We could still, you know, with the research.”

“We’re coming with you, Buff,” said Xander. “Give us some time to prepare, we can help.”

Buffy shook her head, brushing past her friends. “No, I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Come on, Buff,” Xander protested. “It’s us.” Even as he said it, he wasn’t sure that mattered anymore. It was extremely hard for both him and Willow to take this rejection as anything other than punishment for thoughtlessly pulling their best friend out of heaven.

“I can help!” said Willow. “With spells and stuff.”

“No. It’s way too dangerous. This isn’t Dungeons and Dragons here. This is the real thing. I can’t risk any of you.”

“You can’t go alone, Buffy, that’s suicide!” Willow cried.

Buffy stood her ground. “I’m going alone.”

Giles snapped his head toward her, the pieces falling into place. A suicide mission. He sighed as he realized he should have seen it sooner. Knowing about Buffy being in heaven rather than a hell dimension suddenly made everything clear. “She’s right.”

The Scoobies turned to look at Giles in disbelief. “What?” Xander squeaked.

“What?” said Willow.

“What?” Buffy added, surprised that Giles actually agreed with her.

Giles took off his glasses and began cleaning them. “Buffy needs to do this alone.” If his Slayer had a death wish, she was going to have to face down her demons. The metaphorical ones. And she’d have to do it without their help. If Buffy could defeat the dragon, then it meant she wanted to live. If not… then there was nothing he could do to save her anyway.

With a nod of approval from her Watcher, Buffy was out the door before anyone could stop her.
 
 
Chapter #18 - Dragon
 
Chapter 17: Dragon

The jingle of the entry bell as Spike walked in distracted the Scoobies from arguing with Giles. “Got nothing on who summoned our Smaug. Though I found a few who’ve seen it, and they’re scared silly. I tell you, it’s not gonna be…” He trailed off and looked around, taking in the tense scene before him. “Where’s the Slayer?”

“Fighting a dragon,” Xander said, with a hint of bitterness.

Spike stared at them incredulously. “By herself?”

“I thought it was best.” Giles ignored the piercing looks he was receiving from the others.

Spike scoffed at the Watcher. “Bugger that.” Heading into the training room, just as Buffy had earlier, he emerged bearing a sword in one hand and an axe in the other. “Where did she go?”

“We don’t know,” Willow told him. “She just left.”

Spike stared her down. With a gaze as intense as his, he didn’t need any lousy truth spell. When he was satisfied they really didn’t know, he nodded and said, “Right, then.” He’d just have to track her himself.

“Spike,” Giles said, stepping cautiously towards the vampire. He lowered his voice. “This is something she has to do herself.”

The two men focused on each other, the understanding unspoken between them. Spike didn’t need the Watcher to explain his intentions – he’d heard the “I have a death wish” speech firsthand. But Giles hadn’t had to watch her these past weeks, flirting with death, teetering on the brink of giving in to her desperate desire. She’d been facing down her demons every night, and scraping by with the thinnest of margins. But this… something as dangerous and powerful as a dragon, something that would've given her a run for her money if she'd been in top condition, that could be the end of her.

And he only knew one thing.

He could not watch her die again.

“No,” Spike replied. “It’s not.” He turned again and headed out after Buffy, furious that Giles was willing to sacrifice his Slayer in order to test her will to live.

Giles moved to stop him, but one glance from Spike told him it was useless. Even with the chip keeping him from hurting humans, the vampire still wouldn’t take orders from Giles where Buffy was concerned.

*****

Buffy stopped walking when she realized she was being followed.

“Spike.” She turned around and looked at him.

“Don’t even start. You really think you’re going to fight a bloody dragon by yourself?”

Buffy looked at him defiantly. “Giles thinks I can.”

Spike shifted both his weapons to one hand so he could grasp her arm. “Giles is a fool,” he said. “He thinks you’re gonna prove something by doing this alone.”

Her expression softened to one of curiosity. “Prove something?”

“That you wanna live.” He shook his head and let out a harsh laugh. “Thinks he can send you after some larger-than-life foe like it’s a bloody epic poem. Slay the dragon all by yourself, prove there’s something worth living for.” He stared at her. “But you and I know different, pet.”

“You think I’ll let the dragon kill me?”

“I think killing it’s not gonna solve your problems.”

“You think I shouldn’t fight it?”

“No, you’re definitely gonna have to fight it,” Spike said with a wry grin. “Even the nasties are scared of this one. Never seen demons whimper like that. No, you’re gonna fight it, and you’re gonna kill it, because that’s what you do.”

“But?”

“But you don’t have to do it alone. You’ve got me. Remember what I said?”

Buffy sighed, and the ends of her mouth twitched into a slight smile. “Yeah.”

“Then let’s go,” Spike replied, leading her away. “Got a tip this thing’s making a nest of sorts on the bluff outside town.”

*****

When Giles retreated to the training room, Willow pulled Xander aside. “I don’t feel good about leaving Buffy alone,” she said.

“Me either. What’s Giles thinking?”

“We can’t abandon her. Not after what we did to her…”

Willow’s voice broke off in a choking sob and Xander drew her against his side in a one-armed hug. “You think you can work some magic on the dragon?”

She glanced over at the table, where Tara, Anya, and Dawn were still going through the books, looking for something else that might be useful. “We’d be stronger if Tara and I did it together.”

Xander nodded. “Okay.”

“Tara?” The other witch looked up at the sound of her name. “We need to work on some spells to stop the dragon. Freeze it, shrink it, something to make it easier to fight.”

Tara glanced uneasily toward the training room, then back at Willow. “But Giles said…”

“Giles is out of his mind if he thinks we’re gonna let Buffy go off alone,” said Xander. “Willow and I have to do something. It’s up to you guys if you want to help.”

Tara and Anya paused for a minute, reflecting. Dawn swallowed hard, waiting for their answer, knowing she wouldn’t be allowed to participate, but feeling a stake in the outcome nonetheless. Finally, Anya said, “If we could use the talisman somehow, we might be able to control the dragon.”

“I think I remember seeing something like that.” Tara searched through the books on the table for the one she’d been reading on talismans and spells.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.” Giles appeared from behind the stairs.

“Well, we’re not going to let Buffy die again,” said Willow. “We worked hard to bring her back.”

“Yes, and don’t you see what that has done to her? She doesn’t want to be here. You pulled her out of paradise. Given the choice, she’d rather be dead.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Anya asked. “Giving her the choice?”

Giles looked at her sternly. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“What is this, another Watcher’s test?” asked Xander. “Well, forget it. Buffy’s our friend. I’ve been fighting beside her for five years now, and I don’t intend to quit now.”

“Neither do I.” Willow moved to stand next to Xander, behind Anya and Tara seated at the table, so that they presented a unified front.

Giles just sighed and shook his head. He knew he couldn’t change their minds once the Scoobies had set their resolve. “Go, then. Try not to get yourselves killed.”

Willow glanced at Xander, then back at Giles. “You’re really not coming?”

*****

Buffy stood on the edge of the cliff and peered at the steep drop below. “Uhh… did I mention I’m afraid of heights?”

Spike glanced at her. “Really?” He hadn’t pegged the Slayer for the phobia type.

“It’s recent. Since, you know…”

Guilt swirled in his gut. “Right.”

Buffy came away from the edge and followed him as he scoped out the bluff. Why do I always say the wrong thing? she thought, kicking herself. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, just being her quippy self. But she realized the scars of that night ran deep in him. “I also have a newly developed fear of big swirly portal thingies,” she added, trying to lighten the mood. “And… not so big on the claustrophobia.”

Spike finally looked at her, but he kept his emotions hidden beneath the surface. “Getting stuck in a coffin’ll do that to ya.”

Buffy took a sweeping look around at the space between the edge of the cliff and the woods. “So, where’s our dragon?” Spike just stared at the sky behind her. Buffy heard the sound of large wings flapping and turned. “Well, ask and you shall receive,” she muttered, as the dragon let out a loud shriek, swooping towards them.

*****

“You sure that locator spell worked?” Xander asked as they trudged through the woods. “Cause I’m not seeing any dragons. Or Buffy.”

“It worked,” said Tara. “But… the dragon could have moved.”

“Great,” Anya muttered, doing battle with a prickly bush that had her by the sweater. “So we could be heading towards nothing. And this is cashmere!” Xander doubled back and calmed her flailing arms, carefully liberating her from the thorns.

“No, we’re close,” said Willow. “I can feel it.” They heard something very large fly over them and they all looked up. It was hard to see through the trees, but they were almost certain it was the dragon. Suddenly, they heard a horrifying shrieking noise coming from the direction it had been heading.

“This way,” Willow ordered, following the sound. “Come on!”

“Shouldn’t we be walking away from the big nasty noise?” Xander proposed half-heartedly, bringing up the rear as they broke into a run, heading towards Buffy.

*****

“Buffy, look out!”

Spike shouted a warning as the dragon let out another shriek and bent its head towards the Slayer. She backed up quickly, kicking up dust and gravel beneath her feet, but its fire breath managed to catch her and her clothes were set ablaze. Spike dropped his weapons and tackled her to the ground, ignoring his own combustibility as he used his body to smother the flames, rolling her back and forth until the fire was put out.

“You all right?” he asked, lying half on top of her.

“Little crispy, but I’ll live.” She wiped the sweat off her forehead and left a streak of dirt in its place. “You?”

“Flame-broiled to perfection. Still dead, but no more than usual.” He grinned at her, and in spite of the situation, she found herself smiling back. As they picked themselves up, he jerked a thumb towards the dragon. “You gonna kill this thing or just play with it?” he teased her.

“I don’t know, I was kinda thinking I might take it home, you know? Tame it, name it.”

“Piece of advice, love. If it breathes fire” – he grabbed the axe and threw it as hard as he could – “it probably doesn’t make a good pet.”

The axe embedded itself in the dragon’s side, but that didn’t even slow the thing down. The beast was enormous, its shiny black scales like a suit of armor, and Spike had no idea how they were even supposed to get near its heart with a sword, let alone pierce it. He ducked and rolled to avoid a rush of flames that was directed his way and was looking around for his sword when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dragon’s massive iron-plated tail come swinging towards Buffy.

“NO!!” he cried, but the warning came too late. Buffy went tumbling over the edge of the cliff and disappeared out of sight. Spike’s stomach dropped with her, and if his heart were beating, it would have stopped in that instant.
 
 
Chapter #19 - Alive
 
Chapter 18: Alive

Buffy dropped her sword in the fall, and she heard it clatter toward the ravine below as she clung to the cliff. She’d managed to slow her descent by grabbing onto a plant growing out of the side of the cliff, but her weight pulled the roots from the loose soil and she lost her grasp. She scrambled as she started to slide, finally gaining her footing on some protruding rock. She tried clinging to the dirt, but it was dry and kept crumbling. Every time she made a step of progress, the ground gave way and she slid back down, making it impossible to climb. She pressed her body against the rock face, digging her fingers in wherever they could find purchase, and tried to keep her shaky balance with one tiptoe finding a perch as the other leg flailed helplessly.

“Spike!”

He heard Buffy call his name and relief flooded through him. He glanced at the dragon, which let out its own echoing howl, then back at the cliff, momentarily torn. If he tried to help Buffy, they’d be left vulnerable and the dragon could kill them both. One swoop of its tail could send them both careening towards the rocky terrain below. But he couldn’t risk wasting time with the dragon when Buffy might lose her grip and fall at any moment. Before he could even think what to do, he heard his name again, this time from the edge of the trees.

“Spike!” Xander called as the Scoobies burst out of the woods. Willow and Tara began their spell, and that was all Spike needed to run towards the cliff’s edge.

Xander watched him run off and rolled his eyes. “Hey, anything we can do to help…”

“What’s he doing?” Anya asked.

Willow saw him head to the edge of the cliff and realized the situation. “Buffy,” she said. “Come on, guys, this is us.” She turned back to Tara and resumed her recitations with determination. They had screwed up with Buffy big time, pulling her out of heaven. This was their chance to make it right.

*****

Spike lay down at the edge of the precipice and lowered his hand to Buffy, who was hanging precariously below him. “Grab on!”

She looked up at him anxiously, calculating the distance she had to stretch in order to reach him. “I can’t.” She held onto the cliff, unwilling to let go even for a second, for fear of falling.

“Buffy, I need you to take my hand, okay?” Spike was trying desperately to keep his voice even so she’d be calm. She was the Slayer, they were both strong. As long as she didn’t get scared, this would be easy. “On three… one… t –”

Buffy reached up and grabbed his hand before he could finish counting.

He closed his eyes and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s my girl.”

*****

“Slay the dragon,” Xander muttered to himself, staring up at the beast in awe and wondering how exactly he was supposed to do that. He and Anya were just trying to outrun it at the moment, keeping it distracted from the witches as well as Spike, who was still hanging over the cliff holding onto Buffy. It felt like roughly the equivalent of trying to sink a battleship with a Nerf gun.

“Right.” Xander glanced down at his empty hands. “Shoulda brought weapons.” He mentally berated himself for being such an idiot, but a torrent of flame directed at Anya snapped him out of it. “Ahn!” he cried, as his girlfriend tumbled to the ground, tripping over the uneven terrain as she scrambled backward to get out of the path of the flame. “Anya, are you all right?” he asked, dashing to her side. She nodded numbly.

“Will…” Xander said, his voice tinged with desperation as he turned back toward the witches, the only real weapon they had at the moment.

“Trying!” the redhead replied through gritted teeth. “Tara, this isn’t working!”

“Well, um… m-maybe it’s the wrong language? Dragons are – are medieval, right? So, Latin, maybe?” She flipped frantically through the pages of spells they’d brought with them, looking for something they hadn’t tried or something they could tweak and try again.

“Here, this one!” Willow said, grabbing a page from the pile.

Tara looked at the one she’d chosen. “That’s in English. Can you translate it to Latin?”

“I – I can try.” Willow stared at the spell, silently mouthing the translation. She sighed. “I need Giles.”

“Here’s one in Chinese.” Tara gave her a half-hearted expression. “I'm not sure what it does, but dragons are a big part of Asian culture, maybe –”

Suddenly, inspiration struck. “Tara! My immobility spell!”

“Do you have the stuff?”

Willow dug around in her bag until she pulled out the herb pouch she’d taken with her on patrol with Spike. “I hope it’s enough. This thing’s a heck of a lot bigger than a vampire.” She pelted the whole sachet at the dragon and screamed, “Immobilius!”

As the spell began to take effect, the dragon’s movements slowly ground to a halt.

“Now what?” Willow asked in a tiny voice.

*****

As she tried to pull herself up the cliff, Buffy lost her footing and slipped again, dropping a frightening several inches and nearly dragging Spike over the edge with her. He felt himself seesaw forward, bending at the waist and facing the sheer drop below. Fighting gravity with nothing to anchor his legs, he dug his toes in and managed to hold his ground, never letting go of Buffy. Unable to find footing, she dangled from Spike’s hand, letting out frightened whimpers.

“I don’t want to die,” she whispered, as her sweaty palm started to slide out of his grasp. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears as adrenaline and fear took over her body. It wasn’t until that moment that she’d realized she truly didn’t want to die. All this time, she’d been going through life not caring, not feeling, at times welcoming the promise of death. But now that it was here, and all she had to do was let go, she desperately needed to hold on.

*****

“Xander!” Anya cried, spotting the sword Spike had dropped lying a few feet from her. “Sword!” She picked it up and gave it to him. They both looked at it for a moment, realizing that someone had to stab the dragon with it. Xander glanced over at the witches, and prayed they could keep enough spells on the dragon long enough for him to kill it.

He tipped his head back, taking in the full expanse of the beast before him. Almost entirely coated in protective scales, there was only one tiny spot of exposed skin on its underbelly.

“That had better be the heart. Here goes nothing,” Xander muttered, and charged at the dragon. He had to jump to reach its heart, but he was able to pierce it with the sword. The dragon let out another shriek as Willow’s magic began to wear off. Anya ran up and grabbed Xander, pulling him out of the way as the dragon collapsed on the ground.

He stared at it, realizing what he’d done. “Hey, look at me. I slayed a dragon!”

“My knight in shining armor,” replied Anya, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

*****

“Buffy, I’ve got you!” Spike told her, his voice her mooring, preventing her from drifting into panic. “I won’t let you fall. Not again.” His own words echoed in his ears: I want you to know, I did save you. Not when it counted, of course. But after that… Every night I save you.

His muscles straining, Spike pulled her up enough so that he could grab her other hand in his. He banished from his mind the images that appeared – visions from his dreams of the many ways he’d saved her from that tower, coupled with the awful memory, now seared into his psyche, of her broken and battered body lying on a pile of rubble after her fall. This time, he’d save her when it counted. With a final burst of strength, he yanked with both arms and lifted her onto the cliff’s edge, where she collapsed limply in his embrace.

“It’s all right, love. I’ve got you.”

He tightened his arms around her, rocking her back and forth and making soothing noises in her ear that gradually dissolved into an endless litany of “Buffy – Buffy – Buffy” repeated in his hoarse, panic-stricken voice. Her hot tears left trails down her dirt-streaked cheeks and she clutched at his T-shirt as though she might fall again if she let go. He buried his face in her hair so neither she nor the gathering Scoobies would see the tears that stained his own face.

“Buffy! Are you all right?” Willow asked, as Spike helped Buffy to her feet.

Spike gazed at her and gently brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “She’ll be fine, won’t you, pet?”

Buffy smiled shakily, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. “I’m all right,” she assured her friends. “I’m alive.”

*****

the end