“What – ” my voice falters. “What do you mean?” He doesn’t reply. His head has rolled to the side again, his eyes closed. Blood and dirt and dead leaves mat the back of his blonde hair. His silence grows and every second it fills me up more and more – like a balloon. “Spike. Are you saying that you still have your soul?” My voice is so tiny. Like the strong part of me, the Slayer part, is gone.

I don’t know what I’m going to do if he says yes. I don’t know, I just don’t – “Yes.”

Fresh blood trickles out the corner of his mouth, and he swallows audibly. The movements make him wince. I guess I worked him over pretty good this time. I push back the hair that’s fallen in my eyes, my hands shaking so bad I actually miss on the first try. Slowly, I stand up, careful not to jostle or put any weight on him. I make it two steps before my legs fail and I crumble into a heap on the damp ground. Pushing myself up to lean against a headstone, I look across the lawn. Night’ll be over soon. “Night’ll be over soon.” I can’t keep the tremor from my voice.

“It’ll be a lot longer than you think.”

Neither of us move. It’s like when Willow brought me back – together, we’re completely alone. Just like old times.

“Well, pet, still think I can be saved? Still think I’m redeemable?” He must be feeling better. Or at least starting to. The bite’s back in his voice, but not quite a hundred percent. “Soul never changed the fact that I’m still a monster.”

“No, Spike. As I remember it… you were the one to change that.”

Silence for a moment, and then – “Do you know what the first thing I did was when I got all solid again? I’m sure they told you ‘bout the ghost thing?”

I don’t answer; just nod my head tightly.

“Course they did. Bloody Scoobies always did find out everything. The first thing I did when I got solid: screwed Harmony on top one of Angel’s nice, big, corporate-evil-sponsored desks.” He quiets, waiting for a reaction.

I don’t feel hurt. I don’t feel anger. Just distance. Yup. Just like when Willow brought me back. “Good, Spike. That’s… good.”

“S’the only thing some women are good for, you know. Scratchin’ an itch. Like Anya. She was a lot like that. Bet that’s why the Whelp didn’t marry her.”

“Anya’s dead. She died in Sunnydale …with you.”

I don’t look at him, but I can feel his eyes on me. And I can feel right before he blows up. “What the hell is wrong with you, Slayer!” He struggles to push himself up. “I mean, I tell you I’m killing people again. Tell you I’m shacking up with Dru. Tease you about sleeping with other women. And threaten to rape and kill your little sister. Why the fuck aren’t I dust yet?”

I turn to look at him. He is a swollen, red and purple bloody mess. “Why do you want to die so badly?”

He scoffs half-heartedly. “I don’t.”

“Then shut up!” The anger surges again in a red haze. “I am tired of this bullshit already, Spike. I don’t want to run around in circles with you. I’m - …” I slump back against the granite. It’s so cold in the autumn weather, I can feel it seep into my bones. “…I’m tired, Spike.” Part of me can’t help but think that if he would only say ‘I’m sorry, baby’ I would forgive him all these hurtful things instantly. Anything, to be able to rest in those arms.

But he won’t. And he doesn’t. Because supposedly he loves Drusilla now.

“Did you ever think I might be a little fucking tired myself?” His voice cracks and I jerk my head up to look at him. “Did you?”

I stare at him. Suddenly he is so small. And he is tired. Trying to hold himself up, I can see each and every year he’s lived weighing him down. Each and every vict– “That’s why you’re so skinny,” I blurt out. “Because you have your soul. You can’t stand to feed. All those bodies you were talking about? I bet Drusilla did most of the work, huh? Couldn’t stand it, could you?”

He laughs. It is one of the most painful laughs I’ve ever heard. “Yeah… but prolonged screaming does tend to grate on a soul. Dru does the lion’s share, it’s true. But you can bet I do my part. And the rest… the rest I watch.” He eyes me, makes sure I’m listening hard. “I watch, and they scream, they beg me for help. And I just watch. Soaking it all in.”

A coldness trickles down my spine like water. It’s knowledge. He did nothing to stop those things, he stood and did nothing. I can hear the guilt clear enough. I can see it in his eyes, in see the bow in his back. But I don’t know if it’s enough.

It is the knowledge that I might have to kill him after all.

“Are you getting it now, Slayer?” With a blink, I’m shoved against the tombstone, head bouncing against the granite. His face, inches from mine, breath coming in heavy pants. There he goes with that damn super speed again.

I tilt my chin up, meeting his gaze square on. “When this is over, when you’re hurt because I doubted you, just remember that you pushed me. That you did your best, and your best has always been pretty damn good.”

I give him a firm shove. Just enough force to get him to take a few steps back. “Tell me how she’s doing it, Spike.”

He scoffs, “I’m telling you, she didn’t do a thing. Dru deals in trances, not mojo. You’re wasting your time, Slayer.”

I stare at him. Patience is gone. If I stick around any longer I’m probably just going to end up hitting him again. “I forgot that you’re one of the single most irritating beings on the planet. Goodnight, Spike.” Turning my back on him, I continue to keep all awareness focused on him. He is, after all, an unstable evil vampire. For a minute, there’s silence. A silence that makes me very, very nervous.

And then, he does say something. “I’ll be seeing you, Slayer.” The tone makes me stop dead. I turn, but he’s already gone. A quick glance around, and not a platinum head in sight. Tugging up the collar of my coat, I give the graveyard one more glance before continuing on. I lick my lips. I have to call Dawn. Just in case.

*****

I toe off my shoes and dig my feet into the carpet. Cheap Quality Inn carpet, but carpet nonetheless. Fully funded Slayerhood means I can afford better, but Dinwitty doesn’t have better, and cute bed and breakfast joints ask too many questions. Particularly when you don’t come back until three in the morning, covered in cuts, bruises, dirt, purple demon goo – the whole nine yards. So it’s quality time at Quality Inn for Buffy.

My cellphone sits on the bed beside me and I pick at a blob of demon gunk on my jeans as I mull over the time differences between here and England and Italy. Between Dawn and Giles, Dawn’s probably the one least likely to be irritated by a crappily-timed call. If it’s 1:30AM here, it’s... oh, whatever. I grab the cell and speed dial Dawn.

“Hello?”

“Hey Dawnie, sorry if I woke you up, you know me and the math and the time are all wonky together – ”

“Buffy, breathe, it’s fine. Besides, you don’t have to worry about the time difference now…” Her voice is at the same level of perky it was when she got Fabulous Fuchsia nail polish on my brand new comforter that one time. That everything’s-cool-don’t-worry level of perky.

“And why is that, Dawn?” I ask slowly, voice dripping with mock-sweetness.

“…Because I found out that you found out that Spike was in North Carolina and decided to come join you even if you want me or not.”

Something in my stomach lurches. “What?” I whisper. “No Dawn. No. You have to get on the next plane out of here, I don’t care where, just out. Go to Canada, go to Italy, I don’t care. But you can’t be here.”

“Look, I know you guys have a thing, but I loved him first you know! Just, you know, not love in the exchange of bodily fluids kind of – ”

“He’s evil, Dawn.”

She shuts up, if only for a moment. “What do you mean evil? Did he lose his soul?”

“Yes. Well, no, but he’s still evil.”

“Wait - what does that even mean, and how?”

Two years ago this is where I would’ve said ‘it’s complicated Dawnie.’ But that was two years ago. “I don’t know. But he is. It has something to do with Drusilla. Or at least, I think it does. He says he’s in love with her again. And I think she’s controlling him somehow.” I sigh and my shoulders sag; the events of the day catching up with me. “Giles is looking into it for me. Full on Watcher research mode.”

It takes a beat for her to reply. I can feel it all sinking into her. “I’ll help. Giles, I mean.”

“Thank you.”

“Did he – did he mention me at all?”

Suddenly, I’m flashed back to Sunnydale. Dawn’s thirteen and I just got off the phone with Dad in one of his increasingly rare calls. ‘No. No he didn’t.’ And just like last time, I have to lie again, because the truth will hurt more. The truth will probably make her cry and I’m just going to have to make Drusilla’s death that much harder if she makes my little sister cry.

“Oh. Well, if he’s evil I guess that’s a good thing right?” Disappointment and then jokes. Her way of putting up a front. “Besides the evil thing, how’s he looking?”

“Horrible.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. All skin and bones. He’s a good guy, Dawnie. Evil never sits well with the good guys.”

“Like Willow. When she got scary.”

“Mhmm.”

“She stopped making all those dumb jokes and geeky references. That’s how I first knew. That something was off.”

“Yup. And just like her, we’re going to bring Spike back.”

“Yeah.”

Silence floods the line. Then my voice comes out, mouse quiet, “I don’t know if I can save him.”

“You can.”

“Dawn, he’s done… things… I don’t know exactly what, but it looks bad. He hinted that they had hidden bodies… I don’t know. I just… I don’t know.” I swallow hard. I will not cry in front of her. I’m supposed to be the strong one. I have to take care of this. Get the job done.

“Buffy, you will. You will. He’s under a spell, nothing more. End the spell and poof – Old Spike. Well, you know, not old old, but new old. It’s going to be fine.” Just five seconds ago, I was the one giving the pep talk and now look at us.

“I know. I know, you’re right. It’s just hard… to remember that it’s not real when he says – ” I stop, not trusting my voice to hold steady.

“Listen. I’m in Charlotte staying at the Marriott, so if you wanna get dinner or something…”

“No, no it’s alright. And I can’t. I can’t leave here right now. But I’d really just feel better with you flying out of here ASAP. As in, yesterday.”

“Ok, ok. I’ll get on a plane first thing tomorrow. I promise.”

“Good. Call me when you get… wherever it is you’re going.”

“’K. I’ll probably just head back home. See what kind of trouble Andrew’s gotten into while we’ve been gone.”

“I’ll just be thankful if it’s not burnt to the ground.”

“Yeah… ‘night, Buffy.”

“’Night, Dawnie.” I snap the phone shut and stare at the clock. It’s late. …Or early, whatever. My whole body’s tense. Like every nerve’s on edge, just waiting for Spike to leap out of no where. It had been like that ever since I left him standing among the tombstones and continued on a patrol of the town, but it had been a quiet sort of alarm. Now the adrenaline’s gone and the nervous system’s working double-time. Sleep. I just need to sleep. I can call Giles after a much needed coma.

…In my dreams, Drusilla has Dawn. She knows all about keys and locks. She knows all about blood. Slayer blood. Summers’ blood. Magical portal blood. Spike stands in the shadows, and he watches. I hate him for it. Hate him far more than I have ever hated Drusilla. I hate him because he knows better.