Love's Bitch by Eowyn315

Chapter #1 - Fixing It

A/N: As you'll be able to tell by the end of this chapter, this fic will contain some Buffy/OC (though he won't show up for a little while). I think it's worth it to see jealous Spike, and I promise there will be a Spuffy reward for putting up with it. The song in this chapter is “Something to Be,” by Rob Thomas. And yes, the first half of the Scooby scene is directly from “Tabula Rasa” but it fit so well I wanted to use it. Sometimes, you just can’t do better than Joss & co. ***** Chapter 1: Fixing It The night air was thick with moisture, the tepid stillness that preceded a violent break in the humidity. Buffy was patrolling near the Bronze, and she could faintly hear the music playing inside, punctuated by the rumbling thunderclaps that signaled the coming storm. Hey man I don't wanna hear about love no more I don't wanna talk about how I feel I don't really wanna be me, no, no more Part of her wished she could be in there, dancing with her friends and laughing without a care, but there was another side of her that craved the solitude and darkness of patrol. She knew she should fight those urges, because isolating herself wouldn’t help matters, but she figured she was doing her friends a favor. Dark and solitudy wasn’t much fun to be around. Plus, kicking the crap out of demons was a great stress-reliever. And boy, did she have stress. That was the other reason she wasn’t hanging out in the Bronze with her friends. Their relationship of late could be generously described as “awkward,” bordering on “strained,” with an occasional dash of “overwhelmed by the crushing weight of secrets and guilt.” Which was mostly her fault, she supposed. They’d been walking on eggshells around her ever since her drunken spilling of the metaphorical beans. She still fought the inner battle with her conscience, wondering if it had been right to tell them about being in heaven – it hurt them, yeah, but in some ways, it was easier. At least she didn’t have to pretend to be something she wasn’t. I’ve been looking for something Yeah, yeah, yeah Something I’ve never seen Yeah, yeah, yeah We’re all looking for something Something to be The coveted solitude was fleeting, as Buffy noticed a suspicious couple leaving the Bronze. There was something about the guy and his possessive hold on the girl that made her follow them, and all her slayer senses were telling her “vampire.” Sure enough, as soon as they turned down an alley, the guy morphed into his vampire guise and threw the girl against a dumpster. “Now, that’s no way to treat a lady,” said Buffy, illuminated by a flash of light as she appeared in the alley entrance, her arms folded across her chest. The vampire looked over at her angrily and tightened his hold on his victim, eliciting a frightened cry from the girl. “She deserves dinner, and maybe a nice hotel room,” the Slayer went on. With the booming thunder as a soundtrack, Buffy got a running start and did a flip in front of the vamp, kicking him in the face while in midair. She landed on her feet and threw a few quick punches at him. “Run!” she shouted to the girl, now crumpled in a sobbing heap by the foot of the dumpster. Her legs had given out from shock, and she collapsed on the ground as soon as the vampire had lost his grip on her, but otherwise she was relatively unharmed. “Get out of here!” The frightened girl didn’t need to be told twice, scrambling to her feet and high-tailing it out of the alley without looking back. “On second thought,” Buffy said, backhanding the vampire, “I don’t think you’re gonna need a whole room.” She pulled a stake out of her waistband. “You’ll be able to fit in an ashtray.” She lunged forward and staked the vamp. I can't stand what I'm starting to be No, I can't stand the people that I'm starting to need There's so much now That can go wrong And I don't need nobody Trying to help it along Brushing the dust off her hands, Buffy heard someone clapping in the shadows. She peered down the alleyway, and sure enough, she saw Spike coming toward her. It reminded her of the first time they’d met. The first time he’d promised to kill her, she thought, with an almost absurd sense of nostalgia. “Well done, love, excellent job,” he said, his trademark sneer on his face. “Though I think you’re overusing the ashtray line a bit.” “You could’ve helped,” she said, even though she hadn’t needed it. “What, and get a mouthful of slayer fist when I get in your way? No thank you.” Spike couldn’t get a handle on her. If he tried to pitch in, she didn’t want it. But if he didn’t help, she complained about it. Sometimes, he really thought she did it just to annoy him. Damned women and their fickle nature. “How’s the slaying tonight?” “Slow,” she replied. “That’s the first one all night.” Lightning flashed again, frighteningly near, immediately followed by a thunderclap so loud Buffy swore she felt the ground vibrating. She resisted the urge to grasp onto Spike’s arm, because she was the Slayer and she was so not afraid of thunderstorms. “Maybe the vamps are staying in tonight on account of rain.” Spike scoffed. “We don’t melt.” “Looks like we’re about to find out. C’mon.” As the first large drops started falling, she broke off at a run, hoping to make it home without getting totally soaked. She didn’t much care whether Spike followed her or not, but sure enough, there he was, feet pounding on the asphalt as they ran up the street towards Buffy’s house. It's the same old song Everybody says you've been away too long Everybody wanna tell you what went wrong Wanna make you like an icon Till you believe that they're right ***** “Do you think she… walked around on clouds, wearing, like, Birkenstocks, and played a harp?” Anya asked, trying to fill the silence as the four of them sat around the table in Xander and Anya’s apartment. They hadn’t had much time to dwell on what Buffy had told them, what with the dragon panic and everything, but now that things had settled back to normal, the Scoobies were ripe for a pity-party. “Cause those are just not flattering. You know, the clonky sandals, not a harp.” She realized she was babbling, but she couldn’t help it. “I mean, who doesn't look good with a harp?” No one responded. There was no good response to that. The others just looked at her, unsure of what to make of her and her bizarre ex-demony observations. “What?” Anya demanded. “I'm just saying what everyone's thinking.” She turned to Xander. “Right, baby?” “You are attractive and have many good qualities.” Xander prudently avoided saying yes or no while fiddling with his cup. “It's totally not stupid to wonder what it was like for Buffy,” said Tara, trying to reassure Anya. “But it could have been any one of a zillion heavenly dimensions. All we know is that it was a good place, and she was happy there.” “And we took her away from that,” Willow muttered, staring into her coffee mug. “We wrecked it for her.” “We didn't wreck. We didn't know,” Xander said. “We didn't wanna know,” said Willow. “We were so selfish. I was so selfish.” Her voice broke, and she felt Tara’s hand creep into her own under the table, giving her a sympathetic squeeze. Xander heaved a sigh and shook his head, turning it over in his mind. “Maybe we were. I just feel weird feeling bad that my friend's not dead. It's too mind-boggling. So I've decided to simplify the whole thing.” He sat forward, leaning decisively on the table. “Me like Buffy. Buffy's alive, so, me glad.” He gave them all a sheepish half-smile, but when no one laughed at his cave-speak, it quickly faded from his face. “Not to be Miss Psycho Pep Squad,” said Tara, her voice exhausted but determined, “but we have got to stop obsessing about what we did and start trying to make things better for Buffy.” Anya nodded, playing with her spoon. “I'm with Miss Psycho Pep Squad.” “We need to spend more time with her, you know, just hang out,” Xander suggested. “Maybe have weekly dinners over here, or, uh… a book club. Short books. Videos,” he corrected himself, remembering that Buffy shared his relatively short attention span when it came to books. “I can fix it,” said Willow. “I know a spell.” “No!” Tara cried, whipping her head around to look at her girlfriend sitting next to her. “No more spells.” Spike wouldn’t say when she asked, but she’d figured out enough to know that Willow had considered using a truth spell on Buffy before she told them about heaven. It had shocked her that Willow was willing to manipulate her best friend in that way, but it worried her even more that she was still turning to magic to solve her problems. “Then what?” Willow asked her. “This isn't something that's gonna be fixed by a video club. I know I messed up, okay, and I wanna fix it.” “We can’t just do a spell and make her forget,” Tara replied. “That’s not what magic’s for, Willow. We have to help her, make her feel like living again. I think spending time with her is a good idea.” “We could all go to the Bronze,” Anya suggested. “Just like old times,” said Xander. “That’s good. Some good old-fashioned Scooby bondage.” His eyes widened when he realized what he’d said. “Uh, that came out wrong.” “What if that’s not what she wants?” said Willow dejectedly. “She’s been kind of a loner since… I mean, maybe she doesn’t want to be around people… around us.” She thought back to her conversation with Buffy when Buffy had asked her to move out. She’d certainly been distancing herself from her friends, even now. She never asked them to patrol with her anymore, they rarely hung out at the Bronze or at Buffy’s house, and hardly even saw each other except in passing at the Magic Box. Willow had thought bringing Buffy back would make everything better, but it was like she’d lost her best friend all over again. “And she’s been spending way too much time with Spike,” Xander added. “Tell me I’m not the only one who’s noticed.” “You’re not the only one,” admitted Tara. “And, lest we forget, Evil Dead was the enabler of the whole bad drinking situation.” “Buffy’s a big girl, Xander,” Anya said. “She can make her own decisions. If she wants to drink –” “No, Ahn!” He brought his hand down on the table harder than he intended, startling even himself with the sound. When he continued, his voice was quieter and more controlled. “I’ve had some experience with alcoholism. It’s not pretty. And I just can’t let Buffy…” He trailed off with a shudder, memories of his childhood renewing the sense of dread he felt whenever he thought about his parents. The others looked down, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. For them, Buffy’s drinking had been a cause for concern. But for Xander, it was the beginning of a nightmare he knew all too well. Anya reached over and took his hand in hers, a sympathetic expression on her face. Silence fell again. Lightning flashed outside the window and they all jumped slightly as the thunder crashed above them. Then the only sound was the rain pounding on the roof. “I had a thought,” Willow said hesitantly after a while. “Tara, you know Jacob? My history study buddy?” “Yeah…” she replied, unsure of what that had to do with Buffy. “He’s cute, right?” Tara smiled demurely. “Not really my type.” “Oh! But he might be Buffy’s!” Anya looked at Willow. “That was where you were going with that, right?” Willow nodded. “I don’t know, Will,” Xander said uncertainly. “Buffy died, we pulled her out of heaven, and your solution is fixing her up on a blind date?” He looked skeptical. “Look, she needs something normal right now. What’s more normal than dating? And it gives her something to look forward to, to connect her to the world.” “Something to live for,” Tara added, starting to get the idea. “Something that’s not us,” Willow finished, with just a hint of bitterness. “And, hey, at least you’d have another guy to talk to.” “And it would get her away from Spike,” Anya pointed out. Xander raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. He couldn’t think of an argument that could possibly be better than that.

Chapter #2 - Starting Over

Chapter 2: Starting Over Buffy hit the front porch at top speed, barely skidding to a stop in time to unlock the door before she ran right through it. Spike tumbled into the foyer behind her, rain sluicing off his leather coat into puddles on the floor. “Spike! You’re getting water all over the place!” she cried, trying to shove him back outside. He rolled his eyes and shrugged out of his duster, leaving it draped over a chair on the porch before he came back inside. The sight of her stopped him in his tracks. The rain had plastered her cotton blouse to her body, and he could see every curve as easily defined as if she were naked. Swallowing hard, he suppressed a groan as he closed the front door behind him and leaned back against it. He pressed one hand lightly against the front of his own wet t-shirt, feeling the spot on his chest where her hot little hand had been when she pushed him out the door. It still burned. He shifted his weight, hoping she wouldn’t notice his growing arousal through the rain-soaked denim. Buffy pushed her wet hair out of her face and tried to pull her clingy clothes away from her body, all too aware of Spike’s wandering eyes. She crossed her arms self-consciously over her chest. “C’mon,” she said, unnecessarily brusque. “Upstairs.” “Yes, ma’am,” Spike replied in a low, sexy voice, which earned him a dirty look from the Slayer. She sooo didn’t need that right now. Just the way he was looking at her, drinking her in as if she were a mirage in the desert, was enough to send shivers down her spine. She firmly refused to acknowledge the possible implications of her reaction as she led him into her bedroom. “Take off your clothes,” she said, wincing at the poor choice of words that had slipped out, and she hastened to add, “I’ll throw them in the dryer.” “Always happy to oblige, love,” said Spike, using the same sultry tone. “Could you knock off the sexual innuendo? I’ll find you something to wear.” “Not my fault, pet. You’re the little dominatrix, ordering me to strip.” Buffy ignored him and rummaged through her drawers, trying to find clothes that would fit Spike – not an easy task for a tiny girl like herself. Finally, she pulled out a T-shirt and tossed it to him. It was light pink and had kittens on the front, along with the name of a beach she’d never been to. She vaguely remembered her father bringing it back for her as a souvenir of a trip he’d taken, probably with his secretary-slash-girlfriend. The girlishness of the design merely served to underscore how detached Hank was from his daughter. Buffy wouldn’t have been caught dead in that shirt, not even at Dawn’s age. Spike stared at her. “You remember I’m a vampire, right?” Kittens, he thought indignantly. Bloody kittens playing on the beach. God, she must be loving this. “Sorry,” Buffy replied, though she was really more amused than apologetic. “It’s the biggest shirt I have.” “It’s fine.” The expression on Spike’s face indicated it was anything other than fine. “But all the other vampires are gonna think I’m a poofter.” She handed him a pair of gray sweatpants. “You can change in the bathroom.” Changed into dry clothes herself, Buffy met Spike in the hallway and had to suppress a giggle. Even though they were the loosest clothes she owned, the kitten T-shirt was still a little too tight and the sweatpants a smidge too short on Spike. On the other hand, he’d towel-dried his hair and it was now messy and curly and pretty sexy. No! she chastised herself. Not sexy. Because Spike? Evil. Not sexy. Not… oh, give it up, Buffy. The man is sex on legs. You’re not fooling anyone. “Quiet, you,” he growled, halting both her audible giggles and her inner monologue. “I’m bloody glad I don’t have a reflection right now.” He dumped his wet clothes into Buffy’s outstretched arms and followed her downstairs. Spike headed into the kitchen to put on a pot of water for tea while Buffy went down to the basement to stick the clothes in the dryer. “Don’t shrink ’em!” he called after her, as he set about getting mugs and teabags out of the cupboards as easily as if he lived there. The water was boiling when Buffy returned, and he fixed her a mug and handed it to her as she leaned on the island in the middle of the kitchen. “Here you are, love. One cup of steaming English goodness. Warm you right up.” Buffy idly thought that he could just as easily have been talking about himself as the tea, and she felt a little tingly. Then the idea of Spike warming her up caused her to wrinkle her nose in alarm. Didn’t we just go over this? she asked herself. She wasn’t supposed to have those kinds of thoughts about Spike, particularly not ones accompanied by tingles of any sort. She quickly took a gulp of her tea to hide her reaction, and nearly choked as it scalded her mouth and throat. “Told you it was hot,” Spike said. Buffy let out a hmmph in response. They stood in silence for a while, sipping their tea and listening to the rain pounding on the roof. The sound was repetitive and calming, and Buffy remembered why she had sought out Spike for comfort after her friends brought her back. Unlike her friends, Spike understood her need for silence. Draining her mug, Buffy peered out the window. “It doesn’t look like stopping anytime soon.” “’S all right. I’ll build the ark, you gather the animals.” Buffy smiled. “I think you’re supposed to do that before it starts raining.” She hesitated. “What I meant was… you probably shouldn’t go back out in that.” Spike arched his eyebrows. “You inviting me to spend the night, pet?” “I can’t send you out in the pouring rain. Even if you are a vampire. I mean, after the whole saving my life thing, it would just be rude.” Spike tilted his head to one side, gazing at her intently. It was the first time she’d mentioned the incident on the bluff. He knew a lot had gone on that night beyond just the dragon slaying, but if there’d been some battling of emotional demons as well, she didn’t seem to want to talk about it. It was enough for him that she seemed to have regained a little of the spirit she had before she died. He smiled, taking her cup and placing it in the sink along with his. “I can sleep on the couch.” Buffy shook her head. “That’s silly. You can sleep upstairs.” Even as she said it, her stomach lurched a bit at the idea of Spike sleeping in her mother’s room. She didn’t know why – it hadn’t bothered her as much when Willow and Tara lived there. Nevertheless, she led him upstairs and eased open the door. As she flicked on the lights, she heard Spike say quietly, “Just like old times, then.” “What?” She froze. When the hell did Spike sleep here? Spike’s jaw dropped as he realized what he’d said. “Right after you… well, I wouldn’t let Niblet out of my sight, so I – I just… Not good for a little thing like her, being alone at night.” He’d basically moved in, unwilling to leave Dawn alone for even a single night, but he tried to make it seem like less of a big deal, since Buffy clearly knew nothing about it. If Dawn hadn’t mentioned it, it was probably because the Slayer wouldn’t approve. Buffy nodded slowly, taking in the information. She’d had no idea. She knew Spike took care of Dawn after she died, but for some reason the idea of him sleeping in the house never occurred to her. “Of course, then Red decided it’d be best if she lived here.” He realized he sounded a little bitter, so quickly added, “She was right, of course. I mean, if anyone found out what I was, they’d probably take Dawn away.” He smiled sheepishly. “But sometimes I miss my Little Bit, you know?” He didn’t tell her the whole truth – that he was so wracked with grief and remorse, and was so afraid of something happening to Dawn, that since he’d moved back to his crypt he couldn’t catch a decent day’s sleep until Buffy came back. Buffy was about to respond when Spike crept quietly to the door that led to Dawn’s room. He eased it open slowly and peeked in. Dawn was sound asleep, curled into a peaceful question mark. He slipped to the side of the bed, bent down and kissed her cheek. She shifted slightly and let out a small whimper at his cool touch, but didn’t wake up. As Spike slipped out of the room again, he couldn’t hide the small smile that had snuck onto his face. Buffy watched him in awe, realizing that he’d probably done that on many nights while she’d been gone. He was so tender with her sister, it almost made her forget he was a vampire. It still amazed her that she was able to do that, to forget what he was and see him as a person. She tried to think back, to remember when that had changed so profoundly. She recalled the soft, tragic tenderness on his face, his voice breaking when he’d told her, “I know I’m a monster… but you treat me like a man.” She’d known by then that he truly loved her. For all her protestations at first – which were quite justified, in her opinion, since he did have her chained to the wall and was threatening to let Drusilla kill her – those final days had proved to her the depth of his feelings. When it seemed like the whole world was against her, when she felt its weight bearing down on her shoulders and none of her friends could lift the burden – there he was, willing to die to save her and her sister – something utterly unthinkable for a vampire. And so it was that when she invited him inside that last night, allowed him to resume his rightful place fighting by her side, when she asked him to protect Dawn, she couldn’t help wondering if there was something more between them than just the trust and respect of allies. As it turned out, it didn’t matter, because she died, and that effectively ended any chance of anything developing further between them. But he’d taken the promise he made and clung to it, fiercely guarding Dawn as a substitute for the one he couldn’t save. And he’d guarded her too, once she was alive again. He’d been the only one she could turn to, and somehow, she’d let him in, let him get close, building a friendship she’d vehemently denied herself before. Maybe coming back was a chance to start over. Spike noticed her watching him and tilted his head to one side. “You all right, love?” “Yeah.” Buffy smiled, pulling herself out of her reverie. “I’m fine.” He nodded. “I’ll say goodnight, then.” He waited, expecting her to go, but instead of turning away she suddenly grew serious. “I never said thank you,” she said. “For what you did – for Dawn. While I was – over the summer.” He opened his mouth to respond, to shrug it off as less than it was, but she kept on, not giving him the chance. “For what you did for me, too. After I came back. Not just – not just the Cliffs of Insanity heroics. All of it.” She closed the distance between them, her hand coming to rest on his cheek, her hazel eyes peering up at him with such intensity. “I don’t think I would’ve made it, if you hadn’t –” She broke off suddenly, as though whatever courage was powering her had abruptly shut off and left her trembling in front of him. He reached up to cover her hand with his, gently pulling it towards his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to her palm before letting her go. “Goodnight, love.” I’ve been looking for something Something I’ve never seen We’re all looking for something Something to be

Chapter #3 - Unforgivable

Chapter 3: Unforgivable “Buffy!” Dawn shouted from her bedroom. “Did you borrow my denim jacket?” Buffy materialized in her sister’s doorway. “It’s my denim jacket, you clothes thief. I liberated it from your closet two days ago.” “Buffy…” “And keep your voice down, will you?” She headed back to her own room, knowing she was about to cause a stir, but keeping her voice as nonchalant as possible. “Spike’s asleep.” Dawn’s eyes widened and she scampered after her sister. “Spike,” she repeated. “Asleep. Here.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “He’s in Mom’s room. Don’t make a thing out of it.” Dawn followed Buffy into her bedroom. “He slept here last night?” “He was wet, it was raining, and didn’t I tell you not to make a big deal out of it?” Buffy groused, grabbing her makeup and cell phone and other necessities and shoving them into her purse. Dawn suppressed the enormous grin that wanted to take over her face. Spike sleeping over – that was a good step. “Denim jacket?” she pleaded, dropping the subject of Spike as a peace offering. Buffy sighed and reached into her closet. She pulled out the jacket and tossed it at Dawn. “If you hurry, I’ll make you eggs before Xander gets here.” Dawn was sitting on a stool at the counter eating her breakfast when Spike came downstairs. She nearly choked on her eggs at the sight of him in Buffy’s pink kitten T-shirt. “Spike?” “Can I have my clothes back now, Slayer?” he asked with a hint of exasperation as Buffy looked up from washing the frying pan. “Morning, Niblet,” he added, as the younger Summers turned bright red trying to hold in her giggles. Buffy did her best to maintain an innocent expression. “I’m sorry, Spike, did we wake you?” He raised his eyebrows. “You two always that loud in the morning?” “Usually louder,” said Dawn. “Depends on how much Buffy hogs the bathroom.” Buffy glared at her, then turned to Spike. “You can go back to sleep if you want. Soon as I go to work and Dawn’s off to school, it’ll be quiet again.” “’S all right.” He shook his head. “I’ll just head back to my crypt.” Buffy glanced skeptically out the window. “Daylight.” “Blanket. Sewers.” “Suit yourself. Clothes are on top of the washer. Coat, too.” Just as Spike headed down to the basement, they heard honking coming from out front. “That’s Xander. Dawnie, out the door.” She took Dawn’s plate away and shooed her out of the kitchen. Before she left, Dawn glanced toward the basement, then shot her sister a pointed, raised-eyebrows look. “Don’t start,” said Buffy. “Go to school.” ***** “Xander,” Anya said as she counted out the money from the Magic Box’s cash register. “Don’t you think it would be good, when we come out of the church, instead of people throwing rice – because really, who wants to be pelted with starches on their wedding day? – wouldn’t it be nice if there were children, standing on the steps, releasing doves?” “Ahn, honey.” Xander used the same tone of voice one would use with a troublesome child. “Where are we going to get doves?” He paused. “Or children, for that matter.” Anya shook her head dismissively. “You can rent them.” “Children?” asked Willow. “No, doves,” Anya corrected her. “White ones. All fluttery and beautiful.” She sighed, a dreamy smile on her face. Xander exchanged nervous glances with Willow. “Uh, I’ll think about it, honey.” The shop door opened, giving its warning jingle, and Xander breathed a sigh of relief. Saved by the bell. Or not. “Giles!” Anya said, startled. “H-hello,” he said, nodding to Anya before taking in Willow and Xander seated at the research table. None of them had very welcoming faces, though Willow, as was her nature, bore a softer expression than Xander, but Giles knew better than to take that as a sign of thawing. “Ah, is Buffy around?” “No,” Xander replied curtly. “She’s still at work.” “Yes, of course.” The ostracized Watcher pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and began to clean his glasses intently. “She, ah, asked me to meet her here. For training.” It was exquisite torture for him to keep coming to the Magic Box and seeing them, his surrogate children, regarding him with such utter contempt. He’d failed them all, betrayed their trust when he sent Buffy after that dragon alone, an enemy she’d so clearly needed her friends’ help to fight. It was unforgivable, a fact of which he was reminded every time he crossed paths with the young people he’d once thought of as friends. But if the Slayer herself was angry with him, she seemed unwilling to show it. Though he couldn’t fathom what he could teach her – how could he possibly give instruction when he’d ordered her off to her death? – she was relentless in their training schedule, and so he continued to show up here, to face these righteously angry children. He supposed it was his due, a painfully ironic punishment, to be forced to continue his Watcher’s duties while faced with the constant reminder of how cavalier he’d been with his Slayer’s life. “Well, she’s not here,” Xander said, in the same cold tone as before. Giles stood for a moment, awkwardly glancing first at them, then down at the glasses in his hands. It seemed as though he might say something – as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t, so he remained silent. Finally, he put his glasses back on and nodded to the Scoobies. “I’ll wait for her in the back.” With that, he took his leave of them to wait in the training room. Willow felt as though the entire room sighed as Giles left. The tension was nearly unbearable. She turned to Xander. “Do you think, maybe… we’re being too hard on him?” “He nearly got Buffy killed,” Xander snapped. “I don’t think you can be hard enough for something like that.” “But it’s Giles…” That one word carried the weight of five years behind it. “You think I don’t know that, Will? God, every day it kills me to think he could do that to Buffy. But it happened. We were all there.” He closed his eyes briefly, mourning the loss of the only true father figure he’d ever really known. He didn’t want to believe it, could almost pretend the whole night had been a dream… except it wasn’t the first time. He still remembered Buffy’s eighteenth birthday, when she’d been rendered powerless by the Watcher she trusted and sent off to almost certain death, all for the sake of a stupid Council test. The memory was still fresh in his mind, too, how callously Giles had suggested killing Dawn to save them from Glory, that Buffy felt the only way to protect her sister was to die for her. Xander hated this, hated feeling like their family was breaking apart, but if Giles wouldn’t protect his own Slayer and her blood kin, how much less did he care about the rest of them? How could they ever really trust him again? “Yeah, but it was…” Willow sighed, unsure how to explain, and not entirely sure she wanted to justify Giles’s actions. “He thought it was for the best.” “So Giles is capable of making a colossal error in judgment.” Anya managed to combine her trademark candor with a reasonable tone of voice. She’d been around a lot longer than the other two, and she’d learned a thing or two about humans. She might not know the proper etiquette or remember all their silly customs, but she certainly understood their fallibility. When it came right down to it, humans were stupid, and they made a lot of mistakes. “So what? Who among us hasn’t done that one or two dozen times? I mean, resurrection spell, anyone?” She looked pointedly at Willow. “Hey!” Willow jumped up, suddenly resentful. She deserved a guilt trip from Buffy – Anya had no business doing it. “We all agreed to –” She cut herself off, determined to be the more mature one. “But we’re not talking about that, we’re talking about Giles. And Anya is right… sort of. In a no-need-to-put-it-so-bluntly kind of way.” She threw a glare in Anya’s general direction before turning back to Xander. “Giles isn’t perfect, right? I mean, we all think so, because he’s the grown up, but we’re not kids anymore and can’t we disagree without it being all stony silence and accusing glances and eight rounds of ‘Your Fault’?” “I don’t like it anymore than you do, Will,” Xander replied. “I never thought I’d see the day when I’d be siding with Spike” – he said the name with disdain – “against Giles. But something like this is –” He cut himself off as the bell heralded the entrance of the Summers sisters. As soon as Buffy walked into the Magic Box, she could sense the tension. Her friends tried to greet her pleasantly, but their fidgeting told her she’d interrupted an argument of some kind. Giles must be here already, Buffy thought. Sure enough, her Watcher emerged from the training room. “Buffy, how was patrol last night?” “Uneventful. Called it early on account of rain.” From the table where she was settling down to do her homework, Dawn shot Buffy a knowing look, which she ignored. “Are you –” Giles glanced around the room. “Are you ready for training?” “Sure.” Buffy knew he was eager to get out of the Scoobies’ presence. “Just need to get changed.” In the training room, Buffy stepped behind the screen to change into workout clothes. “So, any word on who summoned that dragon?” “No.” Giles fiddled nervously with the weapons hanging on the wall. “I imagine we may never know, now that it has been slain. Unless whatever summoned it acts again.” “Well, at least it didn’t get a chance to do whatever it was supposed to.” “Yes. Er, Buffy,” he said, catching her attention as she emerged from behind the screen in sweatpants and a tank top. “I should like to speak with you about… about my behavior with regard to the dragon.” Buffy shook her head. “Giles…” Giles continued undeterred. Having roused his courage, he was determined to say his piece. “I’m afraid I made a gross misjudgment, both in the seriousness of the situation and in your emotional state. I needlessly risked your life, and if the Council were to hear about it, it would be grounds for –” “Giles, it’s really –” “Please, Buffy, let me finish.” At the tone of his voice – that of an anguished parent delivering tragic news to their child – Buffy obediently fell silent. “I’ve given some consideration to returning to England.” She was momentarily struck dumb, her chest tightening with fear. He was leaving her, just like everyone else. She reached out for something to grasp onto, but clutched only air. When she managed to gather her voice again, she asked, childlike, “Why?” Giles glanced down timorously before bringing his eyes up to meet hers. “I’m no longer certain I am fit to be your Watcher.” “Giles, that’s ridiculous.” Buffy smothered her insecurity, banishing thoughts of her father, and Angel, and Riley, and allowed her take-charge Slayer attitude to rise to the surface. “I need you.” She glanced toward the door that led to the magic shop. “Look, if this is about them… they’ll get over it. I’m the Slayer, it’s my life on the line. And I say who stays and who goes.” “Buffy…” She took a deep breath before continuing. “The thing is, you weren’t… entirely wrong.” She looked at him again and they held each other’s gaze for a moment, until they came to a silent understanding. She thought she saw tears in the Watcher’s eyes as he faced the realization of how close he’d come to losing her. “Look,” said Buffy, “I know I was going through something. And I know I wasn’t handling it well. Maybe you didn’t handle it well, either. But I’m working through it now, and I need you here.” She made a fist and smacked it into her opposite palm. “Now, let me hit something.”

Chapter #4 - Trying to Help

Chapter 4: Trying to Help “Will, if this is a guilt trip thing, you really don’t have to,” Buffy said. If she had to sit and listen to Willow say how sorry she was one more time, she’d rather go without the coffee. “It’s not. It’s a… an ‘I wanna hang out like we used to’ thing,” Willow explained, settling at the table at the Espresso Pump. “You’ve been… distant.” “I know. It’s just…” “Hard?” Buffy nodded, and Willow held back a sigh. She took a sip of her mocha, and steeled her nerves for the conversation. “You’re my best friend, Buffy. I wish we… I just – don’t like to see you withdraw so much, is all.” “I don’t mean to.” She sounded sincerely apologetic. Whatever Giles’ intentions had been in sending her to fight the dragon, getting thrown off a cliff really had made her realize that she didn’t want to die. She knew that wouldn’t instantly make her fall in love with life, but at least she was making a conscious effort to live again. If there was one thing Buffy had learned in the weeks since her resurrection, it was that she had to keep making the conscious decision to go on living, every day, over and over. The big moment of epiphany didn’t mean anything unless she started living her life like she meant it. “I guess I’m just not sure how to… you know.” “You need to get back in the real world.” Willow looked across the table nervously as Buffy stirred her coffee. “There’s this guy in my Roman Civilization class. His name is Jacob…” “No! No guys. Me and guys don’t go well together. Totally un-mixy.” The last thing she needed now was another stressful relationship. Willow’s eyes widened innocently. “Girls, then?” Buffy shot her a look. “No. Not that I’m knocking your lifestyle, Will. I just need a lot less complicated in my life right now.” “But the only people you see are us, and Giles, and Spike.” Buffy took note of the fact that Giles was no longer included in “us,” but that thought was overwhelmed by the twinge she felt at Spike’s name, reminiscent of the “steaming English goodness” tingles. She ignored it, hoping it didn’t register on her face. If it did, Willow didn’t notice it. “It’ll be good for you to get out, meet some new people.” “I get out. I was just at the Bronze the other night.” Willow put on her stern face. “You were patrolling the outside, Buffy. I’m talking about being inside, you know, dancing, music, fun… no killing?” Buffy sighed. Willow was right. She hadn’t been having any fun lately. She wasn’t sure she could, when all she could think about was being ripped from that peaceful place she’d been in. But here she was, living again, and if she was going to have a life, she might as well do it right. “Okay. If I let you fix me up with history boy, will you stop nagging?” And more importantly, she thought to herself, will you stop feeling guilty about bringing me back? “Yes,” said Willow. “No pressure, just going to the Bronze. If you don’t like him, you can make up some excuse and go kill vampires.” ***** Buffy slammed the vampire into a fire escape, feeling a sense of satisfaction as she did it. “I have to say,” she quipped, drawing out her stake, “I'm impressed that you’ve made it this far… in that outfit.” She took a moment to fully appreciate the baby blue polyester leisure suit, complete with flared pants, wide-collared paisley shirt, and platform shoes. Disco Vamp attacked again and she parried him off with a spin kick. Recovering his balance, the vamp grabbed a metal trash can lid and tried to hit Buffy over the head with it. She ducked and shoved it back in his face, where it connected with a clang. “Seriously, dusting this get up?” Her stake found home and her victim poofed before she could finish her quip. “No great loss to the fashion world.” Pocketing her stake, she headed out of the alley toward Main Street, where she was supposed to meet Xander for dinner. Her friends were really taking this “make Buffy feel loved” thing to heart. Coffee dates with Willow, movie nights with her and Tara at their apartment, dinners with Xander, Magic Box inventory with Anya. She almost felt like she had a social life. Except for the inventory thing. That felt a lot like work. And what the heck was this blind date thing Willow was on about? Where did that come from? If they were trying to make her feel better, they really ought to look at her dating history. Not exactly the most inspiring record there. “When I kiss you, I want to die” – probably not the motivator Will was looking for. She realized with a start that it’d been almost a year since she’d dated anyone, almost a year since Riley had left. Of course, she’d been dead for nearly half of that time, but maybe Willow was right. Maybe she should be moving on. Moving on to what? she asked herself. I’m not still… I’m totally over Riley. I just… haven’t found anyone new yet. She hadn’t exactly been looking, what with the being dead, and then the being alive but wishing she was dead. The only person she’d really been around was Spike… And so not going there. That way lies badness. Tingly feelings or not, soulless vampires were incredibly off-limits, even nice harmless ones that took care of your sister and made you tea and listened to your problems and saved your life. She’d let herself go enough to be friend with him, and that would make it hard enough, if the chip ever stopped working and she was forced to stake him. If they were involved… God, it’d be like Angel losing his soul all over again. He couldn’t ask her to go through that again. Not if he loved her like he said he did. So yes, she’d be sticking to nice human guys from now on. She’d have preferred to pick them herself, but hey, if it got Willow off her back, let her think she was helping, what’s a date or two with what’s-his-name? ***** “Xander?” “Yeah?” Xander replied, as he examined the lumber in front of him. Buffy glanced around, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “This looks suspiciously like a hardware store.” “Yes. Buffy, meet Home Depot.” “You promised me dinner. Where’s my Chinese food?” “The Chinese place is right down the street. I just wanted to check some prices. Willow’s got me building a bookshelf for the new apartment.” “Willow’s just full of bright ideas lately, isn’t she?” Buffy kicked petulantly at a pile of wood planks. Xander raised his eyebrows at her. “What’s that mean?” “Will thought it would be a great idea if I went on a blind date.” Xander nodded. “Jacob the study buddy.” Buffy’s jaw dropped. “Please tell me you weren’t in on this, too.” He held his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Hey, this was all Willow’s idea. I suggested a book club.” “A book club? What am I, your pet project now? Did you guys have another intervention and forget to invite me or something?” “No! Buff, it was nothing like that. We were just talking and… we want to make things better for you. Spend time with you, that kind of thing.” Buffy’s anger dissipated somewhat. At least her friends cared about her. “Xander, really, I’m okay.” “You sure? Because you didn’t seem too okay a week ago.” “I know. I… was trying not to deal. It was an escape.” She looked at him intently. “But I’m past that now. Feet firmly planted in the land of the living. No more excessive drinking, no more avoiding you guys…” “No more Spike?” “Sorry,” Buffy said with a grin. “Don’t think I could get rid of him if I wanted to. Dawn’s gotten pretty attached.” “Buff, I dunno…” “I know, I know. Vampire, big bad. I get it, really, I do. But he can protect her. And, it’s weird, but… he’s so good with her.” “Yeah,” said Xander, still unconvinced. “Listen, Buff. Just… do this thing for Willow, okay? I know it seems stupid, and backwards, and probably not what you want right now, but she – she’s really trying to help you. And she’s trying to do it without magic, and it wouldn’t hurt to encourage that, you know?” She nodded, and he patted her on the arm and started walking away from the lumber. “C’mon, I’m all done here. Let’s get you some Chinese food.” “Yay!” Buffy scampered after him like a kid. “Seriously,” she said, once she’d caught up. “A book club?” Xander looked sheepish. “I mean, do you know me at all?” He smiled and shrugged. “Coulda been a video club instead.” ***** In the car on the way home, Buffy asked, “Hey, Xand, what are you doing tomorrow night?” “Helping Anya out at the Magic Box. Big shopping day for lovers of the supernatural. What about the Buffster?” He glanced over at her. “Guess it’s a slow night for you, huh? All the real monsters stay in on Halloween.” She smirked. “You know, you say that now, but then there’s gonna be somebody who just has to turn us all into our costumes or call up some wee Irish fear demon or something.” “Man, doesn’t evil ever take a day off?” Buffy just rolled her eyes. “Yeah. As of now, I’m planning to sit at home and give out candy like any normal person. But Dawn wants to go to this party at Janice’s, so I might be spying – I mean, patrolling. You know, around the house. Just in case.” Xander chuckled. “Dawn must love having you arou–” “Stop the car!” Buffy ordered, as something caught her eye passing one of Sunnydale’s many cemeteries. “What?” “Stop it!” Xander pulled over and followed Buffy, who was out of the car almost before it had stopped moving. His face hardened as he saw who was at the finish line of the Slayer’s 50-yard dash. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded of the vampire who was casually twirling an axe way too close to her little sister. The axe stopped spinning and Spike shrugged. “Thought I’d get a little patrol in before you came home.” Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “With Dawn?” “Yeah…” Spike’s reply was hesitant. Oh, yeah, he was in for it now. “You took my sister patrolling?!” Buffy’s voice had reached a screechy level that almost shook Spike’s cool. Almost. “She’s fine, Slayer. Won’t let the nasties get to her.” “You guys all went out patrolling every night when you were my age,” Dawn said, still partially concealed behind Spike’s leather duster to avoid her sister’s wrath. Buffy glared at her. “Yeah, well, technically, you're only a year old.” Dawn grumbled, but thought it best not to argue. “Spike, I asked you to watch Dawn to keep her out of trouble,” Buffy continued, redirecting her ire toward the evil dead, “not get her in it.” “She’s not in any trouble, Slayer. And who knows, she might even learn a thing or two about how to defend herself.” Spike raised his eyebrows, challenging her. Way he figured, Dawn was old enough to start learning these things, and if Buffy wouldn’t teach her, somebody had to. “She doesn’t need to defend herself. That’s what you’re supposed to be here for.” Having observed the whole exchange silently, Xander couldn’t resist throwing a jibe in under his breath. “What was that you were saying about Spike being good with your sister?” He said it quietly, but Spike would have heard it even without vampire hearing. He glared at Xander with a mixture of disgust and annoyance. “Oh, what do you know about it? Sodding wanker.” “Bite me,” Xander said without thinking. Spike just sneered at his unfortunate choice of comeback. “That wasn’t a suggestion,” Xander quickly warned him. “Dawn, get in the car,” said Buffy. “We’re going home.” She stopped Spike in his tracks with a look that clearly said, “Not you.” Their eyes met for a moment, then he shrugged and resumed his axe-twirling as he headed back through the cemetery. “Just trying to help,” he muttered.

Chapter #5 - The Date

A/N: The song playing in the Bronze is "Fistfuls of Sand" by Five Iron Frenzy. Chapter 5: The Date Buffy barged into Spike’s crypt to find him sprawled on top of a sarcophagus, one arm tucked behind his head as a pillow. “Slayer,” he said, greeting her without even looking up to see who it was. “How’d you know it was me?” Spike sat up and looked at her. “I could smell you.” Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Eww.” “That, and I don’t get many visitors.” He swung his legs off the sarcophagus and stood up as she approached him. “Aren’t you supposed to say trick-or-treat or something when you show up at a bloke’s door?” “Halloween was yesterday, Spike.” He sucked on his teeth and ran one hand through his hair. Even on a stone slab, you could still get bedhead. “So it was. Slept through it myself, like any self-respecting demon. How was your night?” “Quiet.” “Good, then.” He paused. “Got any leftover –” Buffy reached into her pocket and tossed him a couple of Snickers bars before he could even finish the thought. Spike’s eyes lit up at the candy. She’d come prepared, figuring bribery was the best way to handle this interaction. “Spike, I need you to patrol for me tonight.” “You mind if I ask why?” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, actually, I do.” He made a face at her defensiveness. “Well, you’re the one who wants me to do your job, pet, so why don’t you tell me where you’ll be?” He reached into his pocket for his pack of smokes and stuck one in his mouth. “I have a date.” Spike snatched the unlit cigarette from his mouth, shocked. “A date?” He almost choked on the question. God, she sure ran hot and cold sometimes. He hadn’t exactly been getting his hopes up, but he had to admit, that night at her house… well, he’d gotten the impression that with some gentle prodding, she’d want to be a little more than friends. Well, wasn’t he the fool. Buffy shifted impatiently. Why did this have to be so awkward? They were friends, right? But even still, she knew that the knife’s edge on which their relationship so delicately balanced was always in danger of slipping and slicing either one of them to pieces. “Yes,” she said, her anxiety coming through in her voice sounding like annoyance. “Spike, can you do it or not?” “Well, hold on a minute, now, let me check my schedule.” He lit the cigarette and took a puff. “Spike!” “Yeah, yeah. I can patrol.” He tried to hide his expression, full of jealousy and disappointment, but Buffy saw anyway and she couldn’t help but find it kind of sweet. Before she really had a chance to think about it, she came over to him and kissed him on the cheek, softly saying, “Thank you.” Spike felt her warmth run through his body, the spot on his cheek still tingling where her lips had touched. He knew it was foolish to feel that way, he knew he was setting himself up to get hurt, when not moments before she’d so casually dashed his hopes without even realizing it. But if this was his reward, he’d do a million favors for her. “Yeah,” he said gruffly, so that his voice wouldn’t tremble and reveal how much that one tiny gesture had affected him. He ducked his head, focusing on his scuffed Doc Martens, rubbing at a spot on the floor with the toe of one shoe. With a hesitant nod, Buffy accepted that as her cue to leave. Mindful of the precariousness of the moment, she was more than ready to escape the tension. But at the door, she turned to look at him again. “Oh, and Spike? This time, don’t take my sister with you, ’kay?” ***** Up from the sands of the mighty Sahara comes Our hero bold, who so it's told Is a lot like you and me His passion burns, the world it turns He fills his hand to fill the void And fuels the constant feeling Of nothingness inside his soul Buffy moved her hips, bouncing and swaying as the ska song melted into an Arabian beat, then shifted to hard rock, and back to ska again. She let the music wash over her, losing herself in the rhythm and the freedom of the dance. With no thoughts but sound and movement, she could forget everything else that was wrong with her life. It was almost as good a release as slaying, and she realized she’d missed it. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt simple. She felt beautiful. Feels like nothing ever did Kills like nothing ever could Dark and jaded world I hated Everything I left behind I don't need you and I don't want you World that left me blind She could tell that her date wasn’t much of a dancer, but Jacob was trying his best, and she found it endearing. She grabbed his hands and twirled under his arms, smiling broadly as her eyes met his. The band ended the song with a flourish and the Bronze crowd cheered. Jacob snaked his arms around Buffy’s waist and pulled her closer, and she collapsed into him, laughing heartily, her face flushed with exertion. She hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. Jacob made a motion toward their table and she nodded, ready for a break. “The band’s great!” she yelled over the music, as they started into their next song. He nodded, leading her back to their table near the stairs. Orange and black streamers were draped over the railing, left over from last night’s Halloween bash, along with assorted carved pumpkins, plastic skulls, and other decorations scattered around the Bronze. Jacob pushed a fake cobweb – complete with a rubber spider in the middle – out of Buffy’s way. Once they reached their little alcove, where the music wasn’t so loud and conversation was again possible, Jacob said, “So, Willow said you used to go to UC Sunnydale.” “Yeah, but then my mom died last year and I had to drop out,” Buffy replied, taking a seat. She could see the sympathy starting to well up and so she hurried on. “I’m gonna go back though. I want to go back. But somebody’s gotta pay the bills, and Dawn insists it’s not going to be her, so…” “Yeah.” Jacob didn’t start with the I’m so sorry or the that must be so hard for you, for which Buffy was incredibly grateful. “Can I get you another drink?” he asked her. “Sure, thanks.” “Just a Coke?” “Diet, please.” She fiddled with the empty glass on the table in front of her as she watched him walk towards the bar. This would probably be easier with a little rum in her Coke, but she’d promised Xander that she would stop drinking. Suddenly, an annoyingly familiar accented voice startled her from behind. “Nice moves, love, but that fellow could barely keep up with you.” Buffy turned, not at all happy to see him. “Spike!” she said, through gritted teeth. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be patrolling!” Spike leaned on the back of her chair. “I am.” He pointed to a guy out on the dance floor, grinding his hips against a petite brunette. “See that bloke? Vampire.” “So why aren’t you staking him?” Spike shot her an annoyed look. “Well, first of all, I might make a bit of a scene if I do it in here. And second, I’m not gonna go around staking people for no reason. I’m waiting for him to make a move.” When Buffy looked at him skeptically, he added, “Don’t worry, I got my eye on him.” The sight of Jacob approaching the table with fresh drinks caught her eye. “Spike…” she warned, now really wishing she’d asked Jacob for something stronger than soda. “Yeah, yeah.” He had noticed the returning date as well. “Don’t worry. Not going to intrude on your date. I’ll make myself scarce.” And to her surprise, he did, disappearing from her side as Jacob reached the table. Jacob watched Spike’s back as he receded into the crowd. “Who’s the Billy Idol wannabe?” “Actually, Billy Idol stole his look from… never mind.” Buffy stopped herself from explaining something that would need a lot more explaining. “That’s, uh…” She hesitated. What kind of a name was Spike? “A friend.” “Somebody should tell him Halloween’s over.” Buffy giggled in spite of herself. “Seriously, though,” Jacob said, taking a sip of his beer, “I’d like to meet your friends sometime. Willow talks about you guys all the time, I feel like I know everyone.” “Oh, you probably know less than you think…” Buffy muttered. “Still, I think it’d be fun to meet them –” Spike suddenly reappeared from under the stairs. “…Eventually,” Jacob finished. “You must be Buffy’s big date, yeah?” said Spike, as Buffy cursed both vampire speed and hearing. “Pleased as punch to meet you.” He dropped a plastic skull on the table and stuck out his hand. “The name’s Spike.” “Spike?” Jacob shook his hand. “That’s, uh, an interesting name. I’m Jacob Kessler.” Buffy wracked her brain to think of a way to get rid of the vampire, raising her eyebrows in surprise as she realized Spike was asking Jacob about himself, and actually engaging in pleasant conversation. While the boy talked about his major – history, which was mildly interesting to someone who’d lived through a good chunk of it – Spike lit up a cigarette. After taking a puff, he remembered that might be considered rude in certain human circles. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked. “You know, those things’ll kill you,” said Jacob. Spike exhaled and stuck his tongue between his teeth. “Don’t think so, mate. Frankly, I’m more worried about the Slayer here” – he nudged Buffy with his elbow – “killing me than these things.” Buffy shot Spike an icy glare. “Slayer?” Jacob asked. Spike’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake. “Uh, nickname for the old Buffster,” he said quickly. “Long story, you wouldn’t be interested,” he added in a more mumbled tone. Buffy gave Spike a look that required absolutely no interpretation. He’d clearly worn out his welcome. “Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I can see my mate is leaving” – he gestured to the vampire he’d shown Buffy earlier, escorting his dance partner towards the door – “so I’ll just leave you two lovebirds alone. Pleasure meeting you there, Jacob.” And with that, he dashed off, leaving Buffy to breathe a sigh of relief. “Interesting guy,” said Jacob. Buffy scrunched up her nose. “If you like that sort of thing.” She poked at the skull Spike had left. Jacob’s puzzled look made her realize that she was trying to appear as if she didn’t like that sort of thing. What was she trying to hide? It was just Spike, right? ***** When Jacob’s car pulled up in front of her house, dropping her off at the end of the night, Buffy’s stomach began to flutter with the usual “will he kiss me?” nerves. She turned to her date as he shut off the car. “Can I walk you to your door?” he asked, a nervous half-smile on his face. Buffy grinned and nodded, getting out of the car and taking Jacob’s outstretched hand as they headed toward her front door. “I had a really good time tonight,” she said, lingering on the porch and giving their intertwined fingers a soft squeeze. “Best time I’ve had in awhile.” “I’m glad. I had a good time, too.” He smiled at her and leaned in, moving his face toward hers. Buffy closed her eyes in anticipation. But she never got her kiss. A growling from her front yard caused her to jerk her head away from Jacob and towards the pack of demons heading her way.

Chapter #6 - Overflowing with Normalness

Chapter 6: Overflowing with Normalness “Oh, God,” Buffy moaned. “Get inside!” she shouted to Jacob over her shoulder as she dashed toward the demons. “Is there any way we could do this another time?” she pleaded. There were four of them, and they started to encircle her as she made her case. “It’s just, I’m on a date, and I’d really like it to go well, and – unnngh!” She stumbled backwards as one of them hit her across the face. Okay, maybe they didn’t speak English. Or maybe they were just unsympathetic to her plight. Regaining her footing, she landed a return punch. “Fine, we’ll do this now!” She spun around and started throwing punches and kicks furiously. Jacob watched as the bizarre creatures attacked his date. With his sense of chivalry slightly outweighing his paralyzing fear, he ran into the fray, hoping to help Buffy. Before he could even complete a punch, one of the demons grabbed him and threw him so hard he smacked into one of the porch’s support pillars and fell to the ground unconscious. “Jacob!” Buffy screamed, watching it happen out of the corner of her eye as she battled another demon. She snapped the neck of the one she was fighting, and moved on to the other three as the defeated demon melted into the ground. Just as she hit one of them with a left hook, another caught her from behind and grabbed her arms. The other two advanced on her as she struggled to get free. Suddenly, one of the demons was grabbed from behind and went flying across the yard. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief as her eyes met Spike’s, and she managed to wrench her arms free from the demon and kick it in the stomach. Between the two of them, they were able to kill the other three demons. As he snapped the neck of the last one, Spike saw Buffy giving him a look of gratitude. “You all right?” he asked, wiping blood from his mouth where his lip was split. “Yeah,” Buffy replied, shaking off her injuries. One shoulder rolled back into place with an audible pop. “Thanks.” She noticed a bruise blossoming below his left eye and reached up to touch his face. “Don’t.” Spike pulled away and shook his head. “You should go tend to your boy.” He gestured to the house, where Jacob was still unconscious. Buffy gasped and ran over to kneel by her date’s prone form. She turned to Spike for help, only to find that he’d disappeared into the darkness again. Stupid vampire, she thought. “Jacob?” she said, attempting to move him into a sitting position. His eyes flickered open and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Jacob, I’m so sorry. How are you?” Jacob touched his forehead with his fingertips. “I have a headache.” “Yeah, uh, it might be a concussion.” Buffy winced. Why couldn’t she ever have normal dates, ones that didn’t end with violence and bloodshed? “What were those things?” “Uh, I think it was a – a gang,” Buffy stammered. No one in their right mind would have mistaken the demons for humans, but except for their deformed faces, they were vaguely people-shaped, and Buffy hoped Jacob had been too busy being knocked unconscious to notice their appearance. “But their faces…” said Jacob. “PCP,” she added quickly, consciously willing herself not to roll her eyes as she repeated the same lame excuse she’d heard used by the local authorities for years. “I hear it can do that – you know, to your face…” She trailed off as she realized Jacob didn’t quite believe her. She couldn’t say she blamed him. “Where… did they go?” Jacob managed to get out, as he pulled himself to a standing position with Buffy’s help. “They, uh, ran away.” Buffy was incredibly thankful that these demons had been of the leave-no-evidence variety. “You should come inside. I can help you get cleaned up.” “Uh, no, I – I should really go.” He sounded kind of scared. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” Buffy called after him as he headed for his car as quickly as he could while still in pain. She sighed as she watched him drive away. “Well, that went well,” she groused, heading into the house. ***** The sound of the phone ringing made Buffy jump. Dawn raced past her to answer it, then turned to her older sister and made a face. “It’s for you.” Buffy took the phone from Dawn’s hand. “Hello?” “Buffy? It’s Jacob.” Her mouth fell open. After last night’s demon invasion, she hadn’t expected to hear from him ever again. “Hi! How – how are you feeling?” “Better, thanks.” “I gotta be honest, I didn’t expect you to call…” Buffy realized there were butterflies taking up residence in her stomach. Butterflies she hadn’t really expected. Maybe Willow had been onto something after all. “Yeah, that was… pretty weird. With the… gang, and all.” She could hear a note of skepticism in his voice, but he didn’t press her for answers. Thank goodness for that Sunnydale willful ignorance. “But I really like you, Buffy, and things were going really well up until, well…” “Yeah,” she agreed, hope rising within her at his positive words. “I had a really good time.” “I hear these kinds of things happen all the time in Sunnydale. And I hope that wouldn’t get in the way, you know…” “Get in the way of what?” “Of me seeing you again?” Buffy heard a tinge of optimism in his voice and smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.” She saw Dawn lurking around the corner – close enough to eavesdrop, but trying to stay out of sight – and gave her little sister a thumbs up. Dawn just rolled her eyes. ***** “See, that’s why I like vampires,” Buffy said, as she neatly staked the one in front of her. “No muss, no fuss.” It was early, still twilight as she crossed the cemetery. She wasn’t even technically on patrol yet, she just happened to run into a vampire that begged for a staking. Well, the begging was more in favor of the opposite outcome, really, but Buffy wasn’t one to quibble over details. Especially not when she was on a mission. For the first time ever, she knocked on the door to Spike’s crypt instead of barging in. The unusual nature of this act was reflected in the vampire’s surprised expression as he opened the door to see her standing there. “Slayer? What’s the matter? You feeling all right?” Buffy gave him a playful glare as she brushed past him. “It’s called being polite. Maybe you remember something about that from when you were human.” Spike smirked, but didn’t return the banter. “Speaking of being polite,” Buffy continued, standing in the middle of the crypt and turning to face him, “I wanted to thank you for last night.” Spike’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he pushed the door closed behind him. “You already did.” His voice had an unexpected edge to it that unnerved her a little. “I know, I – I just wanted to make sure… you know…” “Just doing my job, Slayer.” Spike plopped himself in the armchair in front of the television and reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels on the floor next to the chair. Buffy opened her mouth to make a snappy comeback, then changed her mind and closed it again. “Actually, it’s my job, and you were taking care of things while I was on a date, so…” “Yeah. Sorry it didn’t go well.” A small smile crossed his face then, almost as if he felt sympathetic towards her, but Buffy was sure that wasn’t it. “Actually, it did.” Part of her wondered why she was telling him this, even as the words came out of her mouth. “I mean, yeah, demons and everything, but he called me today, so I guess that means he likes me.” Spike rolled his eyes and took a swallow of whiskey, taking comfort in the burning sensation as it coursed down his throat, the pain a welcome distraction. “Well, bloody great for you, pet. Is that all?” He wasn’t sure if she knew how she was tormenting him, but he wasn’t about to sit around and listen to her waffle about other guys. His jealousy had him on edge enough as it was, he didn’t need all the excruciating details of Buffy’s love life. “I don’t wanna screw this up.” Buffy came around and positioned herself next to the TV, so that he was facing her. Spike sighed, the bottle dangling from one hand draped over the chair arm. He couldn’t have just kicked her out, could he? No, he had to be a glutton for punishment. “I mean, he’s a nice, normal guy,” she went on, and great, now the little motor mouth was making herself more comfortable, leaning against the TV, the curve of her body taunting him with the promise of things he could never have. “Totally, like, overflowing with normalness. Completely not evil, or working for a secret government agency. He has a pulse and everything. I checked.” “I bet you did,” Spike muttered into the bottle. “What was that?” “I said, I’m glad for you, pet.” He tried to keep the gritted teeth to a minimum, for her benefit. Buffy smiled at him. “You’re totally lying.” He half-smiled back. She was right, he’d give her that. “But I appreciate it,” she told him. “Whatever makes you happy, love.” There was a note of resignation in his voice that he couldn’t hold back. She shifted nervously. “So, um, how's your life? Or – unlife… or whatever you call it.” “’S fine.” She waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she said, “Care to elaborate?” “Not really, no.” “What's your problem?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Don't have one, pet.” She was about to argue, but he cut her off before she could speak. “Just don't need you pretending like you care. Wouldn't want you to strain something.” Her jaw dropped. “But – I do care.” Spike sighed. “No, pet, you want to care, ’cause you think that makes you a better person. But it's fine. We have our thing, you use me for muscle and whatever else you like, don't have to pretend like we're friends the rest of the time.” His words hit her like an anvil. “I… I thought we were friends,” she said in a small voice. That night in her mother’s bedroom seemed so far away now, though it was hardly a week ago. She’d been so determined to start over, to make things different this time around, to treat him better, like a real friend. Wasn’t that why she was here, being respectful and polite and asking for his advice? And he had to be wrong, she couldn’t be just pretending, because hearing him reject her so offhandedly, brushing aside her efforts as insincere, hurt her more than she would have expected. “Aren’t we?” Spike just shrugged, refusing her even the solace of a definite answer, but the tensing of his shoulders and the hardening of his jaw told her more than enough. After sitting in painful silence until she realized he wouldn’t give her any more than that, Buffy pushed off the TV, resigned. “I guess I should patrol.” She glanced toward him, hoping against hope that Spike would offer his company. He didn’t. He just nodded, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he blinked and turned away. Confused and hurt, Buffy turned and left the crypt.

Chapter #7 - Stupid Girls

A/N: Much love and sloppy kisses to Unbridled Brunette for being my beta-horse in midstream. (Does that metaphor even make any sense?) Chapter 7: Stupid Girls “So, she’s just yelling at me on the phone, and I’m like, ‘Lady, what the hell am I supposed to do about it?’” said Buffy, recounting her latest work woes over lunch with Willow and Tara. “Did you actually say that to her?” asked Tara. “I wish,” Buffy replied with a giggle. “No, that was Buffy's Inner Monologue. God, this job sucks.” “But it’s only for a little while, right?” Tara said, as the waitress placed their orders in front of them. “Ooh, yeah, maybe your next job will be something exciting,” said Willow, pondering the possibilities. Unfortunately, even her creative imagination couldn’t come up with any examples of exciting jobs that came from temp agencies. “I think the slaying gives me more than my fair share of excitement,” Buffy replied. “Like, my fair share times ten.” Willow glanced at her coyly. “Any… other exciting things to report?” Buffy knew Willow had been dying to ask since they sat down, and was impressed that she’d held out until the food arrived. “Yes, Will. He called me yesterday.” “He called you?” She squealed with delight, causing a few nearby diner patrons to turn their heads. Buffy looked down at her turkey club to hide the silly smile creeping across her face. “Buffy, that’s so great! I knew you’d hit it off.” “Yeah, Buffy, that’s great,” Tara echoed, more composed than her girlfriend. “Yeah, and he even withstood his first demon attack and didn’t run in terror.” Buffy was still marveling at it herself. Willow’s jaw dropped. “He fought a demon?” Buffy laughed. “No, he got thrown like a rag doll and temporarily lost consciousness. But after a day to reflect, I guess he decided I was worth the concussion.” Tara munched on a French fry and pondered this development. “So are you going to tell him about the slaying?” Buffy sighed, pushing the fries around on her plate restlessly. “I don’t know. I mean, secrets in a relationship definitely equal bad, and I always feel like an idiot making excuses when I have to run off. Like the other night – a gang on PCP? That’s the best I could come up with?” Willow and Tara giggled. “But it’s kinda supposed to be a secret, you know? Giles has said a hundred times…” Buffy trailed off. Watcher references still didn’t bring up the warm fuzzies with her friends. “Anyway, spilling the beans on the whole Slayer thing is kind of a no-no.” “Maybe just wait and see if it comes up?” said Tara. “I mean, he saw you fight, so he’s probably kind of curious.” Buffy sighed. “You know, I really took it for granted that Angel and Riley knew I was the Slayer. I mean, they weren’t exactly normal guys, but it made things so much easier.” “Then maybe you should…” Willow said. “Honestly? I think if I told him anything, he’d freak,” Buffy replied, in a matter-of-fact tone that made the witches drop the subject. “So… when are you seeing him again?” Tara asked in a teasing, singsong voice. Buffy couldn’t hide her smile. “Friday.” “You want us to stay with Dawnie?” Willow offered. “Sorry, she asked for Spike.” Buffy winced apologetically. She knew that Willow missed spending time with Dawn, but these days her sister hardly ever wanted anyone but Spike. And, she had to admit, she felt safer with the vampire watching Dawn. At least then she’d be protected from any physical harm. Not that she didn’t trust Willow’s power. Obviously, the girl could work some major mojo – witness Buffy’s resurrection – but Buffy still preferred brute force when it came to fighting demons. Call her old-fashioned, but it worked. On the other hand, Spike had been all Mr. Bad Moody Grouchypants. When she’d gone to see him last night, he’d been – “Buffy?” She snapped her head up, realizing she’d been staring blankly at her plate, lost in thought. She wasn’t even sure which of her friends had said her name. “Sorry,” she said again. “I was just… I dunno, it’s just… Spike was kinda… weird when I talked to him last night.” “Like… comically quirky weird?” asked Willow. “Or, like, about to slaughter a village weird?” “Like, sullen and grumpy. And kind of a jerk.” “He’s a vampire. Vampires are moody.” Willow didn’t seem too bothered by it. “I mean, hello? Angel?” “Maybe he’s jealous,” said Tara, more intuitive than the other two. “Of… Jacob?” “Could be.” “But it was only one… date…” Buffy trailed off, as the second anvil hit her in as many days. She propped her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands. “God, I’m so stupid. And I was just sitting there, going on about…” She trailed off, suddenly realizing how self-absorbed she’d been lately. It had been so important to her to be friends with Spike, to make sure she was treating him differently, that she’d failed to recognize the fact that he was still in love with her. “Buffy… what?” Buffy shook her head, avoiding Willow’s concerned look. “Nothing. I was just Tact-Free Buffy, is all.” “Buffy, you should talk to him,” Tara said earnestly. “No! No, I – I can’t.” She’d done more than enough talking already. Way too much talking. In fact, it would probably be best if she stopped doing the talking thing altogether. At least with Spike. If she stayed away, she couldn’t hurt him, right? Then her eyes widened, and she glanced down at her watch. “Oh, geez, my lunch break is almost up. Can’t be late for an exciting afternoon of selling people insurance over the phone.” She rolled her eyes as the two Wiccans groaned sympathetically, though at least one of them was worried about more than just her tardiness. ***** “The child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn.” Dawn peered out the door at the figure leaning against the porch railing, silhouetted against the twilight, a wisp of smoke trailing from the cigarette in his hand. “What’d you call me?” she asked, as she stepped back to let the vampire into her house. Spike tossed the cigarette on the lawn before coming inside. “It’s from the Odyssey. Don’t they teach you anything in school?” Dawn made a face as she plopped herself on the sofa, half amused and half annoyed. “You’re in a mood, aren’t you?” “Am not,” Spike retorted, lapsing into teenager mode as he collapsed next to her. “Are too. You’re in a mood because Buffy’s on a date.” Spike tried to look put out at the suggestion, but she had his number and he knew it. “She gone already?” he asked, noticing the Slayer’s absence. He hadn’t seen Buffy since that night in his crypt. Dawn had been the one to stop by after school, asking him to baby-sit again. He got the distinct impression her sister was avoiding him. Dawn nodded. “They went someplace to watch the sunset.” She let out a small, wistful sigh at the romantic setting. Spike snorted, reminding her whose side she was supposed to be on. “I’m sure it’s… not that interesting,” she assured him, to no avail. It was hard to tell a vampire that a sunset was no big deal when he hadn’t been able to see it in over a hundred years. “’S just, I’da got here sooner if I’d known she was gonna leave so early.” Spike tried to shrug off Buffy’s date while at the same time asserting how seriously he took his baby-sitting job. Dawn was fooled by neither. “I think she didn’t want you to be here when Jacob showed up,” she said gently. Spike snorted again and made a conspiratorial face at her to cover the hurt. “She’s pretty dumb, you know,” said Dawn. Her tone was light with sisterly teasing, but carried enough weight to offer a measure of comfort. “Who? Your sis?” Dawn nodded. “I don’t know why you like her.” He gave her a sad smile. “Sometimes I don’t either, Bit.” He closed his eyes and sighed, sinking into the pillows behind his head. “Don’t really have a choice, though. ’S just the way I’m built, I guess.” “What, to fall in love with stupid girls?” He sat upright, indignant. “Hey!” “Oh, come on,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. “Drusilla? Puh-leeze. She’s one decoder ring short of a Cracker Jack box. And don’t even make me bring up Harmony.” He raised one eyebrow at her in what was meant to be an intimidating look, even though he knew that hadn’t worked on her for years. It didn’t help his case that he couldn’t quite keep the corners of his mouth from turning upward – which, after all, was just what Dawn was trying to accomplish. “Okay, Snack Pack, had about enough of your smart mouth. So, unless you fancy yourself a blood donor, you best be keeping it shut.” The lack of malice in his voice lessened the threat considerably, and she grinned and bounced off the sofa, pulling his arm. “Can we order a pizza?” “Yeah,” he growled, allowing her to tow him toward the kitchen. “Long as you don’t get that bloody pineapple kind.”

Chapter #8 - Sunset

A/N: The song in this chapter is "No Blue Sky" by the Thorns. Thanks to UB for the beta! Chapter 8: Sunset Cold outside But I don't blame the weather No one's calling No one's at the door But I can't stay Inside all day Blinds pulled to the floor “This is nice.” Buffy gazed at the sunset as the music of the Thorns emanated softly from the speakers positioned around the restaurant’s outside seating area. “I mean, really nice. I don’t do this often.” “What?” Jacob smiled. “Eat dinner? Or watch the sunset?” “Date.” “I don’t see why. You could probably have any guy you wanted.” He lowered his head a little and glanced up at her through thick lashes in a slightly embarrassed way that Buffy thought made him look vulnerable and cute. Buffy blushed at the compliment, nervously wiping the condensation from her water glass with one finger. “Guess I’ve just had other things on my mind lately.” Like demons and vampires and saving the world for the 18th time, she thought. Not to mention a lovesick vampire who, at that moment, was baby-sitting her defunct Key of a sister. She was going to have to do something about that. Make him not in love with her or something. She couldn’t have him just hanging around like a ticking time bomb, waiting for him to explode in some freak display of obsession and lust like the cattle prod and chains episode last year. God, her life was complicated. But not tonight. Tonight, she was just a normal girl on a normal date, with a nice, upstanding, normal American boy. She looked up at him, and she seemed almost determined. “But tonight I’m all yours.” The restaurant was a tiny place, located just off the PCH a little ways outside Sunnydale, an oasis that served Cuban cuisine. Inside, the atmosphere was cloudy with cigar smoke and dim candlelight, but Jacob had requested a table on the outside deck, overlooking the ocean and offering a perfect view of the setting sun. The light danced on the waves, shimmering in a trail of orange and gold towards the horizon. “This place really feels authentic,” said Buffy. “Not that I’ve, you know, ever been to Cuba or anything.” She shrugged. “But as a faux-Cuban motif, I’m convinced.” Jacob chuckled. “On Saturdays, they have live Habanera music.” Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Is that like a mariachi band? I’m so uncultured.” She took a sip of water. “Anyway, it’s a nice change from the Bronze.” “I guess you go there a lot, huh? Growing up here and all.” Jacob started to feel a little silly for thinking that taking her to the Bronze was a good first date. Willow had suggested it, as a low-pressure kind of thing, but still, he was glad he’d picked something really different for date number two. “Oh, yeah,” said Buffy, with a wave of her hand. “All the time in high school. Willow’s boyfriend, Oz, used to play there with his band.” Jacob furrowed his brow. “Willow’s… boyfriend?” “Oh… ex-boyfriend. He, uh, left awhile ago.” Because he was a werewolf. No, don’t tell him that. “Something about needing to find himself.” “And Willow was so traumatized by the whole experience she swore off guys entirely?” Buffy smiled. “Nah, if that was all it took, every girl would be a lesbian.” “Even you?” “Guilty as charged.” Buffy tried to maintain the smile on her face, but that was hard when she had not one, but two exes who’d left town. Stellar record, that. Jacob should be packing his bags the minute he dropped her off at home. Jacob sensed the change in her demeanor, however subtle. “He was an idiot,” he told her, hoping it was the right thing to say. “He’d have to be, to leave someone like you behind.” He watched her turn an adorable shade of pink and breathed a sigh of relief. “So, you’re originally from Chicago, right? How’d you end up at UC Sunnydale?” She said it lightly, but Buffy was always wary of newcomers who showed up for no apparent reason. Most often, anytime someone new came to Sunnydale, it was because the Hellmouth had attracted them. “I wanted to be close to my dad.” Jacob accepted the change of subject without question. “I didn’t see him much after my parents got divorced.” Buffy nodded in commiseration. “I never see my dad. Last I heard, he was in Spain or something.” Jacob reached across the table and put his hand over hers. It was a small, simple gesture, but it made Buffy smile. He really was very sweet. Strong – not so much physically, but emotionally, in a stabilizing kind of way. As if the world didn’t spin quite so fast when he looked at her. Her life seemed to be one crisis after another, and her friends got pulled into the frenzy; they were fighting their own battles and couldn’t help her slow down. But Jacob felt like a gentle calm, like the ocean way out beyond the breakers, when the wind stopped and the water just rolled in soft lulling motions, not in any hurry to get where the tide wanted to pull it. And that felt nice. “Buffy, you ready to order?” Jacob asked, which made Buffy realize their waitress was hovering over the table expectantly. “Oh, gosh, I’m so overwhelmed.” She glanced back down at the menu, which was mostly in Spanish. She was starting to regret taking French in high school. Jacob noticed the slight panic in her eyes, and offered to choose something for her. Buffy nodded, relieved. “Surprise me,” she said, a glint in her eye. “I’m feeling adventurous.” “So, what’s in Spain?” he asked, once the waitress had departed again. “Huh?” “What’s in Spain that’s more important to your dad than you?” “Oh.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “Who knows? His job, his girlfriend… what isn’t more important?” Jacob started to say something, and Buffy could tell by the expression on his face that it was going to be something apologetic or sympathetic, so she cut him off. “It’s okay. Some people just weren’t meant to be fathers.” “People should have to take a test before having children or something,” Jacob joked. “So, what’s it like, raising Dawn all by yourself?” “She’s a teenage hormone bomb, but who isn’t at that age? We get by.” She shrugged her shoulders. “And you’re working for a temp agency?” Buffy rolled her eyes. “I’m just working there until a good fast-food job opens up.” Jacob’s jaw dropped in mock-surprise. “That’s so great!” he exclaimed, with false enthusiasm. “Because when I graduate with my useless history degree, I plan on working at McDonalds.” She raised her eyebrows in amusement. “That’s very ambitious of you.” “I’m pretty content with not having a future,” Jacob said, grinning. “Hey! You could be fry girl. I get to work the drive-thru.” “Sounds like a plan,” said Buffy, warmly returning his smile. There's no blue sky in my town lately Everybody looks at the ground I've been distracted and gone half crazy But the sun never looked so pretty Going down ***** Spike sat in the kitchen, polishing off the last of the pizza while Dawn scampered off to the living room again. He sighed. As much as he enjoyed spending time with his Bit, Spike couldn’t help feeling bitter. Dawn had been right, of course. It bothered him that Buffy was on a date. It was only their second date (that he knew of) and it probably didn’t even mean anything, but it was just one more of the million tiny paper cuts she kept giving him. She wouldn’t outright say that she’d never date him – well, okay, she did say that, kind of a lot of times, but not lately, right? Not since she’d been back, at least. But there were always little things, hints. The way she ignored him if he said he loved her, or a throwaway comment about having a normal life, or leaving him behind to baby-sit her sister while she went on a date. Those kinds of things, the things that cut him down, a little at a time, made him wish he’d never come to this bloody town. But he was nothing if not determined, and Angel was right when he said that once Spike started something, he didn’t stop until it was finished. Well, unless he got bored or his shows were on the telly. But his grandsire had taught him a little something about pain and suffering, too, and while Spike had never been quite as good as his mentor, he’d managed to find himself at the apex of self-torment, pining away while Buffy threw herself desperately into her attempt at a normal life. But really, did that pillock have to do something quite so romantic as taking her to watch the sunset? Spike crushed the pizza box and shoved it in the trash. That thought pricked at him more than the date itself, because it was one thing he could never do with Buffy. He was about to rummage through the freezer for some ice cream – there was something about ice cream and wallowing in self-pity that always seemed to work for girls; he figured it couldn’t hurt, and maybe the Niblet would want some – when his thoughts were rudely interrupted by a big hulking demon smashing through the kitchen door.

Chapter #9 - Trouble

Chapter 9: Trouble “Oh, my God, that was incredible,” said Buffy, pushing her plate away and dabbing at her mouth with her napkin. “I think that’s the best meal I’ve ever had.” “Well, you’ve gotta have dessert,” Jacob replied, hoping to stretch the evening out as much as possible. “The arroz con leche is amazing.” “Oh, I really should –” Buffy cut off her protest when Jacob gave her a tempting eyebrow-wiggle. She relented and smiled at him. “Okay. Let me just check in with Dawn.” She pulled her cell phone out of her purse, mentally congratulating herself for remembering to bring it, and speed dialed the house number. As the phone rang a third, then a fourth time, she furrowed her brow. “Everything okay?” Jacob asked, seeing her concerned expression. Buffy pursed her lips. “No one’s picking up.” ***** Spike shook his head and charged, tackling the demon back towards the doorway. Buffy’d been a little prickly about expenses of late – best to keep the structural damage to a minimum. He landed on the back porch with the demon in a bear hug. The thing was covered in thick, hard scales, which would make hitting more painful for Spike than for the demon, and it had huge spines on its back that punctured the wooden porch beneath them. They rolled, the spines ripping up planks as they went, and Spike was momentarily squished until he was rolled back on top again. The demon heaved him over its head, and Spike went flying over the porch railing to land facedown on the grass. It took him a moment to realize the demon wasn’t coming after him, but rather had lumbered back into the kitchen. Spike scrambled up and chased it. He was about to leap onto its back, but thought better of it once he got a good look at the large dorsal extensions, each of which ended in a sharp point. He really wasn’t in the mood to get impaled on a demon. He peered around the huge figure to where Dawn was standing in the entryway to the living room, a surprised expression on her face. “Weapons, Dawn! Move!” She obeyed, dashing to Buffy’s weapons chest behind her while Spike dove for the demon’s ankles and pulled its legs out from under it. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed the battle-axe Dawn was holding out for him. With all his might, he swung the axe and neatly sliced off the demon’s head. It rolled to a stop in the corner as greenish goo seeped from the severed neck. “Buffy is gonna be so pissed…” Dawn told him. Spike just rolled his eyes and choked up his grip on the axe. “Uh, Spike?” Dawn said nervously, looking past him at the demon just as the phone started ringing. “Better answer the phone. Could be your –” “No, Spike. Look out!” Spike felt himself being lifted off the floor by his neck. He glanced over his shoulder, and out of the corner of his eye saw the now-headless demon standing there, holding him a foot off the ground. “Bugger.” He left an imprint on the wall, a vaguely Spike-shaped dent with a large crack down the middle. He came to rest on the ground still gripping the axe. From somewhere in the living room, Dawn squealed as the demon came toward her. Spike picked himself up and rushed the demon again. “The spines!” Dawn shrieked. “Go for the spines!” He did, hacking away at the demon’s back with the axe. It let out a hideous cry before collapsing on the floor in a puddle of green goo. “That’s gonna stain the carpet,” Spike muttered, while Dawn answered the still-ringing phone. “Yeah, Buffy, everything’s fine here,” she assured her sister, eyeing the dead demon. When she hung up the phone, Spike was glaring at her. “The spines, eh? Couldn’t have mentioned that sooner?” “Sorry.” Dawn shrugged. “I didn’t think of it.” Spike nodded to the carcass on the floor. “Guess I better drag this thing outside.” When he came back in, his attention was drawn to his baby-sitting charge by the distinct odor of nail polish. He followed his nose to find Dawn sitting in front of the TV, slathering her fingertips with a lurid shade of hot pink. “Careful,” he warned. “Sis’ll kill you if you spill that.” Dawn glanced down at the green demon gunk still on the floor then back up at Spike. “Right,” he said, following her eyes. He had to admit, he was kind of impressed. Not every teenage girl could face down a demon and be calmly painting her nails only a few minutes later. She was a Summers woman, all right. She gestured to the TV remote and then wiggled her fingers at him. “Can’t touch. Put something on?” Spike obliged and flipped through the channels until he found a decent movie. The Lost Boys. Eighties vampire gangs. He smirked and settled back on the sofa. Dawn stared at him with disapproval. “Spiiiike,” she said, drawing his name out to at least three syllables. He tried to keep his expression stony, but her puppy-dog eyes won him over and he relented. Turning back to the TV, he continued flipping until she told him to stop. “What is this bollocks?” “Bring It On.” Spike scoffed. “The cheerleader movie? Don’t think so, pet.” “My house.” “Buffy left me in charge.” “Fine, then I’ll tell her you let the demon in.” She just stared him down again until he rolled his eyes and sighed. Who was he kidding? He was a total pushover when it came to her. Dawn finished her second coat of polish and blew on her fingernails to dry them. Glancing at Spike’s hands resting in his lap, she noticed that his own black polish had chipped off almost completely. “Hey, can I do yours, too?” She gestured to his fingers. Spike studied his nails for a moment. “Sure, long as you don’t use that horrid pink color.” “Black?” He nodded. Dawn wrinkled her nose. “I think Buffy has some.” She dashed upstairs to check, and as soon as she was out of sight, Spike grabbed the remote and flipped the channel back to the vampires. Dawn hardly seemed to notice when she came back, focusing on her task instead of the TV. She took his long, slender hands in hers and began meticulously coating the nails with polish one by one. She chattered on about school and her friends as she worked, keeping up an incessant stream of teenage gossip that Spike found endearing, even as he tuned her out. Occasionally, she would trail off, the movie drawing her attention for a few minutes before she resumed her train of thought. “Kiefer Sutherland makes a hot vampire,” she remarked, capping the pot of nail polish and settling back on the sofa. Spike pouted. “Hotter than me?” he asked, absently picking at his nails as soon as they were dry. Dawn made a sound that was a cross between a snort and a giggle, and Spike shot her a dirty look. “Hey!” She slapped his hand. “I just painted those for you!” “They’re too neat, chicklet,” he replied, almost apologetic. “Gotta look manly, don’t I?” Dawn rolled her eyes and inspected her own nails to make sure they hadn’t gotten messed up in the process of Spike’s manicure. After a thoughtful pause, she said, “Spike?” “Mmmm?” “Do you wish it was you?” Spike turned away from the movie. “Do I wish what was me, Niblet?” “The guy taking Buffy on dates.” Spike marveled at her, not for the first time that night. She really was perceptive. They’d have to stop treating her like a kid one of these days. “Vampires don’t date, love.” He was jealous, when it came right to it, but he didn’t want to admit that, so he avoided the question. “Don’t really go in for the hearts and flowers nonsense.” “You’re still in love with her, though, right?” “Always. Why d’you ask?” Dawn looked at him, her head tilted in perfect imitation of him. “I was just kinda worried, you know. If you’re not in love with Buffy, you might stop coming around.” Spike sighed and put his arm around her. “I’d never stop coming around to see you, Bit.” He grinned. “’Less your sister put a stop to it, then we’d have to sneak around behind her back, yeah?” Dawn giggled conspiratorially, but then resumed her seriousness. “Xander says you’re using me to get to Buffy.” “Xander’s a lunkhead, ’s what he is. Didn’t I take care of you all that time we thought Buffy wasn’t coming back?” Dawn nodded. “Don’t you worry, pet. You’ll always be my girl.” He tightened his grip on her and started to tickle. She squealed and tried to squirm out of his grasp, to no avail. “And you’re a tasty treat!” he added, playfully malevolent as he vamped out and bared his fangs. It didn’t scare her at all. Not surprising, considering that a demon attacking her baby-sitter didn’t even faze her. She merely continued to giggle and protect her ticklish spots, until Spike’s head snapped up. “You hear that?” He slid out of his game face and brought his tickle attacks to a halt. “What?” Dawn used the opportunity to scramble out of reach, just in case he pounced again. “Car door. Slayer’s home.” Dawn’s eyes widened. “You heard that?” “Vampire hearing, pigeon. Now get on up to bed before she comes in or you’ll get us both in trouble.” He shooed her upstairs with a swat of his hand, then cocked his head, extending his senses to listen to the sounds from outside. He could hear them coming up the walk – slow, meandering footsteps that matched soft, easy conversation, then the sound of laughter, probably on the porch. Then the talking stopped. Spike opened the door to see Buffy spring away from Jacob, her hand instinctively flying up to her mouth, concealing her kiss-swollen lips. Spike swallowed back bile. “Spike!” Buffy’s eyes flashed daggers at him. “Spike?” Jacob looked from Buffy to the vampire in her doorway, confused. “Uh, what are you…?” “Been minding Dawn while Buffy was out.” He looked at the Slayer and held up his hand. “Painted my nails, she did. Woulda done my hair and makeup, too, if I’da let her.” “Well, you know, teenage girl,” she replied with a tight smile. Spike could tell from her tone of voice that she was annoyed and trying to hide it. “Isn’t Dawn a little old for a baby-sitter?” asked Jacob. “Buffy’s real protective. What with her mum gone and all, she’s gotta look out for the Bit.” Jacob looked confused again. “That’s what he calls Dawn,” Buffy explained. “Oh.” Jacob nodded slowly. “You’ve just got a nickname for everybody, don’t you?” He’d called Buffy something funny, too, when they ran into him at the Bronze on their first date. Spike just leered at him in response, studying the boy carefully. He hadn’t really had a good opportunity to do so during their previous meetings. Jacob was very tanned, Spike noted with a hint of bitterness, with a mop of dark curly hair that flopped over his forehead – much like Spike’s own hair would do if he didn’t tame it with heaps of products. He had piercing blue eyes, and Spike wondered briefly if his own eyes looked like that. It had been so long since he’d seen them. Before he could ponder any further, Buffy clearly decided she’d had enough and moved to close the door. “Okay, Spike, I’m just gonna say goodnight to Jacob out here, and I’ll be inside in a minute, okay?” She shut the door on Spike before he had a chance to respond. She turned to Jacob. “I’m sorry, I – I forgot he’d be here.” It was true. She’d ended up having such a good time, she completely forgot about the prickly nature of her sitter. “It’s okay,” Jacob said, with a tender smile. The moment effectively ruined, he settled for giving her a last quick kiss on the lips and headed down the steps. “Goodnight, Buffy.” Buffy saw Spike scurry away from the window when she opened the door, and she made a mental note to have Willow or Xander stay with Dawn the next time she went out with Jacob. She didn’t care if Dawn liked him; Spike was trouble. “How was your date, then?” he asked casually, but Buffy’s eyes were already wide, as she took in the damage left by the demon. “What… the hell… happened here?” “Demon. Spiny. Green goo,” Spike summarized. “Killed it.” “Is Dawn okay?” He saw the worry flash across her eyes. “She’s fine. Better call the carpenter, though. You’re, uh, gonna need it.” He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously as she stared at the crack in the wall. “Anything else?” she asked, her voice edged with exasperation. “Uh, back door.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “And the porch could use a patching up.” He figured it was a bad time to mention the demon carcass in the backyard. Maybe they’d get lucky and it would disintegrate eventually. Buffy sighed and rubbed her forehead with one hand, trying to ward off the headache that had started threatening as soon as she walked in the door. “Great.” “You’re welcome.” A little gratitude wouldn’t kill the girl, he thought. Sure, messed up the house a bit, but he saved her little sister from being demon food, right? “Yeah, thanks,” she replied, distracted. Spike resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her utter lack of sincerity. “I’m gonna have a go-round before heading home. Feeling the need to kill something. You game?” Buffy shook her head. “Nah, I think I’ll just head to bed. You have fun, though.” Spike’s shoulders slumped a little as she started up the stairs. Even if she was an ungrateful little chit, he’d been hoping for some time with her. Why should Jacob get all the fun? But, as usual, he just ended up leaving the house disappointed and craving some violence.

Chapter #10 - Reconciliation and Manly Things

Chapter 10: Reconciliation and Manly Things Buffy made sure to stop by the Magic Box bright and early on Saturday morning. She would have preferred to sleep late on the weekend, but the previous evening’s unexpected visitor meant there was some business to take care of. Fortunately, Willow and Tara were already there when she got there, looking through spell books while Xander helped Anya restock some shelves. “Ahn, honey? I think the frog’s eyes are looking at me,” was the first thing Buffy heard when she walked in the door. “Just don’t make eye contact and they’ll stop,” Anya suggested. “Hey, Buffy. How was the date?” said Willow. Buffy sighed. “Somewhat overshadowed by the demon that attacked my house while I was gone.” The news elicited surprised and concerned murmurs from the Scoobies. “Are you guys all right?” Tara asked. “We’re fine. It’s just a good thing Spike was there. You guys feel like getting researchy?” When the others nodded, she gave them the details. “Spike and Dawn said it was big and scaly, with spines on its back. Didn’t die when Spike cut off its head, only when he cut off the spines. Oh, and it bleeds some kind of greenish stuff that is now all over my carpet.” She rolled her eyes in disgust. “Sure thing, Buff,” Xander said. “We’re on it.” Buffy shook her head. “Not you. Xand, I’m gonna need some serious carpentry work. Spike and the demon did a number on the house.” “Yeah, okay. Just call me Norm Abram.” Buffy frowned. “The guy from Cheers?” “No, that was Norm Peterson,” he corrected her. “Norm Abram is the guy from The New Yankee Workshop.” Willow looked up at him, puzzled. “So you’re gonna make rocking chairs and birdhouses?” When the others gave her a surprised look, she shrugged. “I watched a lot of PBS as a kid.” “You’re a funny one, Will. Anyway,” Xander said, turning back to Buffy. “I’ll make with the fixing, they’ll make with the research, and we’ll have this case cracked in no time.” “I, uh, called Giles,” Buffy told them, wary that things were still a little tense. “I figured he could help. I hope you don’t –” The door jingled. “Buffy?” her Watcher said. “…mind,” Buffy finished quietly. “Hi, Giles,” she continued, more brightly. “These guys can fill you in. Xander and I are going to fix the holes in my house. Call me if you find anything.” She grabbed Xander by the arm and dragged him out of the Magic Box. ***** Willow, Tara, Anya, and Giles sat around the research table in silence, poring over a stack of large dusty tomes. After bringing Giles up to speed on the situation, conversation had become scarce. Anya got everyone’s attention by shutting a book so loudly it made the others look up at her in surprise. “So,” she said, leaning forward with her arms resting on the book in front of her, “I think we should discuss the awkwardness that’s been permeating the atmosphere, hovering like a… like a…” “The elephant in the room?” Tara supplied. “I don’t know.” Anya tilted her head to the side in thought. “Are elephants generally considered awkward? No, I’m talking about – it’s like this presence, like the awkwardness is just there, in the room, staring at us with its beady little eyes, and no one wants to say anything.” She either didn’t notice or ignored the looks she was getting from the others. “And I think we should deal with it.” “O… kay,” said Willow, glancing nervously at Tara. “Anya,” Giles started, taking off his glasses and rubbing his hand across his eyes. Anya barreled on, relishing her role as mediator. “We’re all mad at Giles because he almost got Buffy killed, right?” Giles visibly flinched, but that didn’t stop her. “So what? Buffy got over it.” “Look who’s talking, Anya,” said Willow. “Xander’s the one who’s been the most holding-a-grudgy. Maybe you should be talking to your fiancé about it.” Anya sighed and shook her head. “Well, I love Xander, and he’s excellent in bed, but sometimes he’s kind of stupid.” She looked around at them. “So what do we say? Do we forgive Giles?” “Anya, really,” said Giles. “Look, perhaps if I tried to explain… I know you found my actions reprehensible, and in retrospect I… find I agree.” Willow and Tara seemed surprised at his admission, but remained silent and let him continue. “I believed Buffy to be suicidal, and I was rash in my decision.” He fiddled with the pages of the book in front of him. “I suppose I was also angry at her, for keeping it from me, and –” “And you were angry at me for doing the spell in the first place.” He looked at her, taken aback. “Willow –” “No. You were right. You’d been telling me all along I did a stupid thing, and you were right. If I hadn’t brought her back, she never would’ve been feeling that way.” “But then she’d be dead, and I think we all agree that wouldn’t be better, right?” Anya said. Willow and Giles both averted their eyes, unwilling to make the judgment call. Maybe they were better off with Buffy back, but what about what she wanted? “There’s nothing we can do to change things now,” said Tara. “Buffy’s back, and I think she’s okay now, so maybe the best thing we can do for her is, you know, be a team again. Support her, in a united front.” Giles looked from her to Willow and nodded. “I think that’s wise.” “Good, okay.” Willow let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Wow, that feels –” “Well, I’m glad we worked through that,” Anya said, never one to dwell on other people’s emotional moments for long. “I kind of have a personal reason for making up with Giles.” She suddenly got nervous and glanced down shyly, playing with her sleeve. “I don’t exactly have a father, see, and well, it’s kind of a tradition when you get married, and so I was hoping” – she looked at Giles – “you’d be the one to walk me down the aisle?” “Well, I – wha –” Giles sputtered. “I’m floored.” His face broke out into a sheepish grin. “Anya, of course, I would be happy to. It’s an honor.” ***** Buffy inhaled, breathing in the smell of wood, paint, and other manly things. “Ah, I’ve missed this place.” “Yeah, I know how you love our trips to Home Depot, Buff,” Xander replied, grabbing assorted supplies that Buffy couldn’t even begin to name and tossing them into the cart. “I’m serious, this place is incredible.” She pointed to one of the aisle markers. “Look, they have an aisle of nails. A whole aisle of different kinds of nails.” She tugged on his sleeve excitedly. “It’s amazing.” “Come on, Bob Vila. Let’s just get the stuff and get back to your house.” Buffy watched as Xander examined two different tools that to her looked exactly the same, then, after thoughtful consideration, put one in the cart and the other back on the shelf. “Is Dawn home alone?” Xander asked. “No, I asked Spike to come back.” She sighed at the face he made. “Like there’s anyone else who can fight off a demon. I cannot be with her all of the time.” Her first thought this morning had been to call Jacob and ask him to sit with Dawn while she went out. But she knew he’d be just as helpless as her sister against anything that might attack them, and she didn’t want to put him in danger. Besides, she had no idea how she’d explain the damage to the house – or the demon in the backyard. Comforting as it was having a new boyfriend, there were some things he just wasn’t ready for. On the other hand, she hadn’t relished dragging a sleepy vampire out of bed early in the morning. Especially since, being relatively nocturnal, he’d probably only just gone to sleep. “Spike,” she said, walking right into the crypt without knocking. No one sprawled on the sarcophagus – he must be downstairs. She climbed down the ladder to his lair, where she found him sleeping soundly, his head buried in a mound of pillows and a sheet tangled around his lower body. “Spike.” He didn’t stir. “Spike, wake up,” she said again, this time louder and accompanied by a finger poking his bare chest. No response. She grabbed his shoulder and shook him. Still nothing. “Ugh! Spike!” She socked him in the jaw with a swift punch. “Bloody hell, woman!” Spike snarled, shooting up in bed and rubbing his jaw. “You are impossible to wake up, you know that? You sleep like the…” “Like the dead?” “Well… yeah.” “You ever think maybe I was ignoring you?” “I…” Buffy glanced down and jumped backwards as she caught sight of Spike where the sheet had slipped down and was no longer concealing as much as it had been. “Oh, God, you’re naked!” She turned away and covered her eyes with one hand, just for good measure. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, doubly so because of the involuntary heat that flared between her thighs at the sight of naked Spike. “Well, yeah,” he replied, in a sarcastic imitation of her, trying not to leer at the faint but unmistakable scent of arousal. “Hand me my trousers, will you?” Without looking at him – oh, she was a chaste little thing, or at least she pretended to be – she bent down, picked up his black jeans off the floor, and held them out at arm’s length. Spike shook his head and smirked as he grabbed them from her. In the hardware store, Buffy blushed again just thinking about it. She really had to find a new baby-sitter. Yeah, right, she thought to herself. I wonder if Superman’s available. This baby-sitting job definitely required a superhero. Meanwhile, her sitter of last resort was sprawled on the sofa, watching cartoons with all the curtains drawn. Spike let out a yawn and shook his head to clear the cobwebs, trying to stay awake until Buffy got back. He heard them approaching and was watching the front door expectantly when Buffy and Xander came in. “Spike?” Buffy dropped her Home Depot bags on the floor in the foyer. “Where’s Dawn?” “It’s Saturday morning, Slayer. She’s still sleeping.” He got up off the couch and shot her a look. “Where I’d like to be, too, might add. ’S past my bedtime, you know.” “Look, I appreciate you coming over. Go home. Get some rest.” “’S daylight out there, couldn’t I just…?” He gestured up the stairs. Buffy glanced at Xander, who was bringing in a load of wood. “No,” she replied quickly. Spike made a face. “Fine. On my merry way, then.” He grabbed the ratty blanket he used to protect himself from the sun and headed out the door, breaking into a run as soon as he hit sunlight. Xander watched him go. “I don’t like that guy. I may have said it before, but it bears repeating.” Buffy rolled her eyes. It really didn’t, actually. Xander’s hatred of Spike was well documented. “I know, Xand.” “Do you, Buff?” He looked at her hard, giving her a glimpse of the thinly veiled mistrust he saved only for Buffy’s vampire cohorts. “Do you really? I mean,” he sighed, losing the edge and becoming caring, concerned Xander again, “I don’t want to see you or Dawn get hurt. Spike may be Buffy-whipped for now, but he’s still an evil, soulless monster. What if he decides to do something extreme, like – God, remember last year? When he almost let Drusilla kill you?” Buffy glanced away. The thought had crossed her mind. “He’s jealous now, Buff. You’ve got a new boyfriend. Who knows what he might do?” Buffy folded her arms across her chest protectively, her brows knitted with concern. Spike had been kind of weird lately. Jealous. She worried about something setting him off. “This is the last time,” she said. “No more baby-sitting.” “I thought the last time was the last time.” She had said that, hadn’t she? “It’s just, with this new demon thing…” “If Spike gets an idea in his head, he could be just as dangerous as the demon.” Buffy sighed. “Just build something, will you? I’ll worry about Spike. But for now, I’m gonna go bury the demon carcass in the backyard.”

Chapter #11 - Who Does Not Love Forever

Chapter 11: Who Does Not Love Forever Buffy was immensely relieved when the phone call came from the Magic Box, letting her know that they’d found the demon. If she had to listen to any more of Xander explaining the difference between a Phillips head and a flathead screwdriver, she was going to be really tempted to use that electric drill he loved so much to add a few more holes to his head. Dawn was awake by now, but had the good sense to stay up in her room, blaring her music to drown out Xander’s hammering and drilling. Buffy ran up to fetch her and the three of them headed over to the magic shop. “So, what’s the scoop?” Buffy asked as they trooped in. “We’ve been very productive,” Anya said. Then, she turned to Xander. “By the way, we’ve all had some bonding time here, in between the researching, and we’ve moved on past our petty differences. Oh, and Giles is giving me away when we get married, so it’s probably best if you just get over that now.” Xander raised his eyebrows, startled. “Ahn –” “Do it,” she warned him. Xander glanced at Giles, then back at Anya. “Okay.” He knew when not to argue with his fiancée. Willow shook her head in amazement, and muttered under her breath, “Surrender, Dorothy. Man, she’s got him whipped.” Buffy paused for a moment to marvel at the speed with which that reconciliation had occurred, and then snapped her attention back to the crisis at hand. “So, what have we got?” “Your house crasher is an Acanthia demon,” Tara told her, holding up the book and pointing to a sketch illustration, “from a Latin root that means ‘spiny.’” “Huh,” said Dawn. “Makes sense.” Buffy nodded, not as interested in the word origins. “Great. Any idea why it picked my house?” There didn’t seem to be a consensus on that one. “Maybe it was looking for the Slayer,” said Anya. “I mean, you are kind of their archenemy.” “Most demons don’t make house calls,” Buffy said doubtfully. “Dawnie, do you remember anything else?” Willow asked. “Something that might tell us something about the Acanthia’s behavior?” Dawn shook her head. “It’s kind of a blur. Spike saw more of it than I did.” “Buffy, perhaps you should speak to Spike again,” Giles suggested. “He may be able to tell us something useful.” The Slayer shifted uncomfortably, watching Xander for his reaction. She didn’t even need to ask what he thought of the idea. “Um, I don’t think so. He’s pretty cranky with me right now. I don’t think we’ll make it past the snappy one-liners, unless I get lucky, and I get a brand new nickname.” “I’ll go,” Tara said. The others looked at her in surprise. “I think he likes me. You know, more than… others.” She stopped herself short from naming names, but couldn’t avoid glancing at Giles and Xander. “He might talk to me.” ***** Spike raised his eyebrows when he heard the rapping on his crypt door. “Knocking again, Slayer?” He strode over to let her in. “Might start thinking there’s something wrong with… you. Oh,” he finished when he saw Tara. “Wasn’t expecting you.” He stepped back and welcomed her in with a nod of his head. Tara entered, slightly cautious, but he noticed she was carrying herself with more poise these days than she used to. “Just thought it’d be a change of p-pace.” She tried to seem cheerful and nonchalant. “Buffy’s avoiding me, then?” he asked, never one to dance around the issue. Tara stuttered for a moment, but Spike cut her off with a smile. “’S all right, love. I’ve been tetchy with the new boy around, I’ll admit it.” He heard the witch let out a deep breath. “Anyway, don’t suppose you just popped by for a visit. So let’s have it.” “We were hoping, maybe – we can’t figure out why the demon attacked the house, and we thought – could you, maybe, tell me some more about it?” Tara explained, her thoughts still jumbled. “Some reason why it went after you guys the way it did?” Spike cocked his scarred eyebrow. “What do I look like, the bloody information fairy? I told the Slayer all I could remember.” He perched on the sarcophagus, thinking. “Didn’t seem too bright. More of the smash and crash type. Though…” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “It did seem to go after the Niblet, more than me. I’d attack it, and it’d toss me aside and go for her.” He looked back up at Tara. “You think that’s something?” “Maybe. Might have to do with her being the Key. We’ll check into it. Thanks.” “Yeah,” Spike nodded in acknowledgement. She started to go, but stopped before she reached the door. “I don’t blame you, you know. For being jealous.” One corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “Yeah?” Tara shrugged. “You love her. It’s understandable.” “’Bout time someone realized that.” His tone had a bitter edge. “Slayer still doesn’t believe you can love without a soul.” “I – I think she knows that you –” He shook his head. “You weren’t around for Angelus, pet. Did a number on her, for sure. He was a right bastard, and she managed to convince herself that losing the soul meant he couldn’t love anymore.” “Maybe she had to. To make things… bearable.” “Yeah,” he replied, thinking on that for a moment. “Doesn’t really give a fellow a fighting chance, though, does it? Look, I’m not a fool, Glinda. I know she’ll never…” He trailed off, staring at his hands in his lap, idly fiddling with one of his rings. “Just don’t like seeing her with some other bloke, you know?” His head jerked around with surprise when he felt her soft hand on his shoulder, comforting him. “You’ll get over it eventually,” she offered. “Nah,” he replied, with a slight expression of amusement on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. “He is not a lover who does not love forever.” “Euripides,” she said, placing the quote. “’S my curse. In love till it kills me.” Tara smiled at him gently, giving his shoulder a final squeeze. “We’ll check out the thing with Dawn,” she told him, before leaving the crypt. ***** “You think it was after her?” Buffy said, turning to Giles for his opinion once Tara had shared Spike’s additional details. “Trying to use her to open a portal or something?” Dawn trembled at that suggestion. She really didn’t want a repeat performance of the bloodletting business. Especially the dying at the end part. Buffy reached under the table and squeezed Dawn’s hand. Giles shook his head. “It doesn’t have enough sense for that. I can’t imagine an Acanthia demon planning anything like that.” He thought for a moment, taking off his glasses and leaning against the stairs to the upper level. “Unless…” “Oh, boy,” Xander muttered. From Giles, that was never good. “Unless what?” said Buffy. “Unless someone was using magic to – to control it somehow,” Giles said. “Perhaps it could be directed at a target.” “Like Dawn,” Buffy concluded. Giles nodded. “Or, perhaps, your house.” Willow glanced around worriedly. “So there could be more of these spiny demons? All programmed to attack the same way?” “And someone out there trying to kill Dawn,” said Anya. “That’s it.” Buffy jumped up from the table. “Where you going, Buff?” Xander asked. “To Willy’s. And I’m going to beat up demons until I get some answers.”

Chapter #12 - Wake-Up Call

Chapter 12: Wake-Up Call Buffy sauntered into the demon bar like she owned the place. She knew that attitude was half the battle, and sure enough, most of the stares she received quickly turned to fearful expressions and furtive glances. A few demons got their hackles up, looking like they might be ready for a fight, but no one outright challenged her. She sidled up to the bar and conferred with Willy for a few minutes. It only required her grabbing him by the throat and threatening him twice, so she counted it as a victory. Unfortunately, he wasn’t much help in giving her the information she needed, but he pointed out a couple demons who were new to the Sunnydale scene, and a few who might have their hand in the right sort of magic to control a mercenary. Scanning the possible contenders, Buffy selected a big oafish demon sitting at the far end of the bar. He had brownish slimy skin and a face that closely resembled a toad, if the toad were six feet tall, and he was nursing what appeared to be a mixture of beer and a green putrid substance that was probably a secretion from another type of demon. Swallowing the urge to vomit, Buffy approached the toad-faced fellow and introduced herself with a clean right hook. “Who the hell is after me and my family?” She drew her arm back for another punch if she didn’t like the answer. A few demons skittered away from the bar, frightened of the Slayer. She didn’t care that she was making a scene. In fact, the more demons that saw her interrogate the first one, the more there’d be who sang like birdies when their time came. “Wasn’t me,” the toad demon growled uncooperatively. It earned him another blow from the Slayer. “Who sent the Acanthia demon?” She grabbed him by his slimy throat. “You’ve never even heard of diplomacy, have you?” came a voice from the back corner of the bar. Buffy turned her head, hand still gripping the toad demon’s neck. “Spike.” Just the vampire she’d been hoping not to run into. “You know, contrary to popular belief, some demons don’t like to be punched,” he said, heading toward her with his trademark swagger. He bent his head close to her ear. “Something about flies and vinegar, I think.” Buffy released the toad demon with a thrust that almost knocked him off his barstool as she faced Spike. “I don’t have time to mess around.” Spike could see the seriousness in her eyes. He grasped her elbow and guided her toward the door. “Come on, love, let’s talk outside.” Once they were out on the street, he asked, “What’s happened?” “Giles thinks the demon may have been doing the bidding of someone else – a witch or a wizard or something who’s trying to kill Dawn.” As expected, the idea of a threat to Dawn grabbed his attention fully. “I need to know who. If you wanna talk to your… demon buddies, see what you can –” “Already did, pet. What do you think I was doing here? No one’s seen any more of those spiny guys around.” “What about somebody new in town? Powerful enough to control a demon using magic.” “Not that I’ve heard of.” “Well, check it out, will you?” “Look, Slayer, coulda been just a fluke thing, right?” There was a slight desperation in his voice that betrayed his concern for Dawn, and he sounded as though he were trying to convince himself of the truth of his words even as he said them. “Just some random demon breaking into any house…” “Which just happened to be the Slayer’s house?” Buffy replied with skepticism. “Yeah, maybe. But I don’t think so. Just check it out, okay?” She grasped his arm and turned puppy-dog eyes on him. “Please, Spike?” Spike stiffened. She didn’t even know she was doing it – the Slayer rarely played the helpless female card, and he could see nothing but concern in her expression – but he chafed at being manipulated. Not now, not when she came home all shining and blushing from her dates, when she couldn’t even speak to him – had to send the bloody witch – because she was afraid of – what? That he’d slaughter her and the boy in a jealous rage? Not like he could, even if he’d wanted to… which he didn’t, of course, no siree. Hadn’t even thought about ripping his head off, not even in that purely hypothetical “what do you suppose would happen if…” kind of way. Not that it mattered, of course. He’d bollixed it up last year, and it was all he could do to get her to forget that he’d been the one to drag her out of bed in the middle of the night to see what Soldier Boy was up to, or that he’d chained her up and given her an ultimatum along with his declaration of love. She would always see him as rash, unreliable, and liable to do just about anything to screw up her relationships. But she was also the bloody queen of mixed signals, and she was trying his patience. He’d do what she asked because he loved her, and he loved the Bit, but damned if he was going to lose his balls in the process. He jerked his arm out of her grasp. “Seemed like you were doing all right in there.” He nodded his head toward Willy’s. “Knocking heads and breaking hearts.” Buffy let out her breath in a huff. “Thought you didn’t like my method.” “’S not exactly subtle, but it’ll do,” Spike replied with a snort. He punched her playfully in the shoulder, a gesture that belied the hint of bitterness behind his tone. “Buck up, Slayer. You can do this yourself. You’re just as welcome over at Willy’s as I am.” “Why are you being like this?” Buffy complained. There was an itch in the back of her brain that reminded her she’d been trying to avoid Spike earlier because she wasn’t sure she could trust him, but his refusal still stung her. Spike heard her question for what it was – why wasn’t he doing what she told him to do, just because it was she that said it? She’d gotten used to him doing whatever she asked of him – whatever she demanded, really. This little show of independence took her by surprise. “You don’t need me anymore, pet. You’ve made up with the Scoobies, you and Watcher are all right.” He flared his nostrils, not yet completely willing to forgive Giles himself. “Even got yourself a boyfriend.” He couldn’t help rolling his eyes a little. “Life’s all sunshine and daisies again. Don’t need an evil night creature buggerin’ things up.” He turned as if to go, but Buffy stopped him. “That’s stupid. Of course I –” She stopped herself from saying something as ridiculous as I need you. He waited, looking at her expectantly, wanting to hear those very words. “You’re the only one who can protect Dawn,” she amended, and she watched the disappointment flicker across his face before he pulled it back behind a dismissive smirk. She paused for a moment. “This is about Jacob, isn’t it?” Spike scoffed and started walking again. That pillock was the last thing he wanted to talk about right now. Buffy followed him undeterred. “You’re jealous.” Spike looked away, annoyed. Got ourselves a bloody Rhodes Scholar here. “Look, I don’t care what you do. I just don’t wanna see you get hurt.” “I think maybe that’s not completely true.” She was pushing him too hard, she knew it, and if she had any brains she’d shut up now and let him go on his way, but ignoring the issue wasn’t working. If they had to fight it out, she was ready to fight. She had to know where they stood. He stopped and stared at her. He couldn’t believe they were actually going to have it out right here in the street. “Okay, maybe I do care. But I can’t… I just… I think you’re setting yourself up to be disappointed, is all.” “Why? Because for once, I actually have a chance to be a normal girl, with a normal boyfriend?” Spike shook his head, ignoring the feeling he got from those words. She might as well just stake him on the spot. Normal boyfriend, she wanted. Right. Not him. Thanks for clearing that up. “That’s your problem. You’ll never be a normal girl, and the sooner you figure that out, the happier you’ll be.” “Oh, and you know all about that?” “I know a little something about Slayers. What makes them tick.” “You know how to kill them,” she spat, and Spike felt the wind go out of him as if she’d punched him. “Don’t psychoanalyze me.” “The Slayer is part of who you are. You’re not like other girls – you shouldn’t try to be. You don’t want someone who just treats you like a normal girl. You want someone who loves all of you – the Slayer, too.” “You have no idea what I want!” Buffy felt an uncomfortable gnawing in her chest as she said it, because she knew he was exactly right. She didn’t know how he managed to be so damned insightful – must be the wisdom that came with over a hundred years of experience – but somehow he’d figured out what she really wanted, when she hadn’t even been sure herself. She’d never let him see it, though. “Fine,” Spike said, throwing up his hands in surrender. He started to back away from her, but her voice stopped him. “You’ll check out the thing?” He took her in, her golden hair falling softly around her face like an angel, her perky nose scrunched up in thought, her eyes sparkling with anger – and he realized he was screwed. Completely, utterly fucked. There was no way he could walk away from her, no matter how many times she shattered his heart. But he could never have her. Spike felt a surge of envy as he thought of Jacob. He may not be able to save her from demons, but he was what Buffy wanted. A normal boyfriend. “Yeah,” he said. Instead of going back into the bar, he turned on his heel and headed for his crypt. Investigating demons could wait until he’d gotten himself sorted. Right now, it felt like his entire body was tingling with the jittery rage of jealousy, and he was having so much trouble thinking straight, there was a good chance any demon he talked to would end up on the business end of his left cross – which, while cathartic, wouldn’t really help Dawn. As the crypt door banged shut behind him, Spike stopped and stared into space. Buffy had been right. He was beneath her. He would never be the one she loved, and he owed her better than just following her around like a sick puppy. He owed himself better – didn’t he have any dignity left? He stumbled over a coffin lying haphazardly on the floor. He couldn’t remember where it had come from, or why it wasn’t up against the wall like all the others, but at that moment, he didn’t care. He drew his foot back and delivered a solid kick, his boot going straight through the moldy wood. He yanked his foot loose and kicked it again, then again and again until the wood splintered into dozens of pieces and fell apart, exposing the desiccated remains of its owner. His boot came down, crushing first the ribcage, then the skull. He bent down and grabbed a femur, swinging it against the wall like a baseball bat until it snapped in half. He took a deep, shuddering breath and dropped the bone fragments, running one hand through his hair. He couldn’t keep on like this. This was exactly the rage Buffy was expecting. He wouldn’t admit to himself that he was picturing any particular person as he destroyed the skeleton, but his heart knew better. He needed to calm down. Shaking, Spike headed over to the corner of the crypt where he kept his liquor. He found a glass tumbler and poured himself a drink, ignoring the clinking noise as his unsteady hand repeatedly hit the bottle against the rim of the glass. He swallowed down half the bourbon in one gulp, but even as the burning liquid hit his throat, he knew it was useless, and the tumbler shattered in his grip, leaving his hand sticky, dripping, and covered in shards of glass. He barely noticed it. The building pressure within him drowned out everything else. He had to do something. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore.

Chapter #13 - Déjà Vu

Chapter 13: Déjà Vu Willow was curled up on the sofa, reading for class the next day, when she heard the knock at the door. Tara was still down at the magic shop, so she dragged herself up to answer it. “Spike,” she said, surprised to see him on the other side of the threshold. “Can I come in?” “Sure.” Willow stepped aside to let him in. “You don’t need an invitation.” He smiled at her. “Just being polite. Listen, Will, I need you to do something for me.” Willow settled back into her spot on the sofa and gestured for Spike to take the armchair. “Sure, what is it?” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “This is going to sound horribly like déjà vu, but I promise not to kidnap you this time.” She raised her eyebrows. “Uh…” “I need a love spell.” Spike was looking down at his hands, fiddling with the rings on his fingers, but he glanced up when Willow didn’t respond. He saw her looking at him, troubled but also curious. “An anti-love spell, actually. To make me… not in love with Buffy.” The witch’s mouth formed a silent “O” and she nodded slowly as the pieces started to come together. “You know, me and love spells don’t usually go that well,” she said, trying for a half-hearted joke. But she knew how he felt about magic, and about her doing it in particular, and she knew he wouldn't be asking if he weren't very, very desperate. “Don’t really trust this bollocks myself. But it hurts, Will.” Spike pressed his hand to his chest, where his heart would be. “God, I… I can’t go on like this.” Willow smiled sympathetically. “I’ll see what I can do. Come on.” He followed her into her bedroom, where she pulled out a book and flipped open to the spell she needed. Spike sat on her bed and watched as she dug through her supplies, gathering ingredients. Within minutes, she had everything mixed together in a small bowl, the appropriate chants recited. She looked at it. “This needs to boil for a while, until it’s liquidy. Couple of hours. I don’t suppose you have a stove? Or a hot plate?” Spike shook his head. “I could do it here, if you wanna wait around. Or come back later…” “You can’t just nuke it?” “In the microwave?” Willow asked doubtfully. “I guess. Though we try not to mix the magicks and the food.” “Oh… right.” “We could try it,” she offered, sensing he was eager to have this done as soon as possible. When the mixture was ready, Willow poured it into an empty jelly jar and handed it to Spike. “Thanks,” he said sincerely. “Spike? Can I ask you something?” Spike nodded. “You knew, didn’t you? About Buffy? Where she… was.” She didn’t need to clarify. Spike understood what she meant. “Yeah. She told me awhile back. I guess she just needed someone to talk to.” Willow looked hurt that Buffy had confided in the vampire and not her best friends, and Spike said, “She didn’t want to hurt you, you know. She didn’t want you to feel guilty.” Willow nodded and sighed. “I didn’t think – I mean, we were so… We couldn’t stand the thought of her being in hell, and we never thought about…” “You couldn’t have known.” She still looked like she needed some encouragement, so Spike added, “She’s doing better now.” Willow smiled. “Yeah, she is.” “Dating and everything.” Spike glanced down at the potion he was holding. He tried to sound enthusiastic about it, but managed only disappointment. Willow didn’t respond – she didn’t know what to say, so she just studied her shoes. Finally, Spike gestured toward the door. “Well, I should be going then.” “One more thing, here.” She handed him a crystal and a piece of paper with words written on it in Latin. “Put this in an open flame and recite this chant. Just in case something goes wrong. Break the crystal and it breaks the spell.” He nodded and thanked her again before heading back to his crypt. Spike unscrewed the jar Willow had given him and poured the blue soupy mixture into the Kiss the Librarian mug he’d swiped from Giles. After it had been used for Spike’s blood, Giles hadn’t really wanted it back anyway. Spike swirled the potion around in the mug and stared at it. It was one of the most unappetizing things he’d ever seen, and coming from someone who drank blood on a regular basis, that was saying a lot. He lifted the mug to his lips then suddenly stopped himself. Reaching into his pocket, Spike fished out the crystal Willow had given him. He found a large candle and set it on top of the sarcophagus while he got out his lighter. Lighting the candle, he placed the crystal in the flame, saying the words as instructed. “Bottoms up,” he muttered to himself. With the mug almost to his mouth, the door to his crypt swung open with a bang, startling Spike and causing him to drop the mug, which shattered on the cement floor. Cursing under his breath, Spike looked up to find Buffy standing in the doorway. He’d been concentrating so hard on making the spell work properly that he hadn’t even sensed her coming. “I’m sorry,” said Buffy. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” “You didn’t,” Spike fibbed, glancing back down at the mess he’d made on the floor. Buffy followed his eyes. “Let me help you clean it up.” Before he could object, she was down on her hands and knees, picking shards of porcelain off the floor. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I was just anxious to see if you’d –” “Haven’t yet.” Spike searched around for a towel or rag to clean up the potion, and finally settled for an old T-shirt he found in the corner. “Been a little busy.” “I can see that. What is this stuff?” He knelt down next to Buffy and tried to soak up the liquid, but all he managed to do was spread it around and get it on himself. As his hand brushed against Buffy’s, he noticed that her fingers were stained blue from the potion, and they made his hand tingle where they touched. Unwillingly, Spike felt drawn to her, spiraling out of control, completely unable to suppress the desire he usually kept so well in check. He found himself reaching out with one hand, tangling it in her hair and pulling her close, leaning in and capturing her lips with his. He slid his other hand onto her thigh as he deepened the kiss. He felt her respond, as fervent as he was, her tongue sliding against his, her hands finding their way to the nape of his neck. She crawled into his lap, and his jeans became suddenly, painfully, tight as her scent enveloped him, her warm body pressed against his. “Oh, Buffy,” he murmured into her hair. “Love you… love you so much.” Buffy felt as if she were melting into him. She couldn’t remember what it felt like to not be touching Spike. She wanted him, needed him; her entire being called out for him. She ran her fingers through his hair, loosening his curls. “Spike,” she moaned, as his hands slid up under her shirt, caressing her skin, brushing a thumb against her bra-clad nipple. A coil of white-hot desire formed in her loins. “Need… need you.” She kissed her way down his cheekbone until she found his lips again, taking his lower one between her teeth and tracing it with her tongue. He could smell her arousal, could practically taste it as he slid one hand down to cup her mound through her soft linen pants. She groaned into his mouth, grinding against his touch. “Please, Spike,” she begged, her voice husky with lust. “Come on,” he rasped, drawing himself up and pulling Buffy with him. She immediately set to unbuttoning his jeans while stroking his erection through the denim. They stumbled toward the sarcophagus, Spike trying to lead her while Buffy groped him. Spike laid Buffy down on the stone coffin, her hot little hand working its way into the crotch of his jeans and closing around his cock. “Fuck, Buffy,” he groaned, struggling not to come right there in her hand. He swung a leg up and straddled her, his mouth descending on hers again as she squirmed beneath him to get out of her pants. In her frenzy, she kicked aside the candle that was sitting on the tomb, and it clattered to the floor. The crystal that was perched in the flame cracked and broke into several pieces. Abruptly, Buffy pulled back and broke the kiss. “What the hell are you doing?” she cried, shoving Spike off her, so that he nearly toppled off the sarcophagus. A tumult of emotions went through her as she fumbled with putting her clothes to rights and ensuring she wasn’t revealing anything indecent. How could she do this? How could she let herself – she’d been absurdly close to actually having sex with Spike. Her hand had been on his – Whoa, okay, let's not go there, she told herself, hurriedly cutting off that train of thought. She really didn't need to think about how he'd felt in her hand, or how it might have felt in… Stop. Badness. Thoughts majorly of the bad here. “I’m sorry, I…” Spike tried to recover his balance. He had no idea what had just come over him, but he suddenly realized he was sort of hanging out of his pants. “I just got caught up in the moment, you know?” “What moment?” she demanded, leaping to her feet. “There was no moment!” Spike scrambled to stand up next to her, buttoning his jeans back up. “There was a moment, Buffy. I felt it.” Buffy punched him – hard. A swift right hook that sent him flying backwards onto the sarcophagus again. “Feel that too?” “We kissed, Buffy.” Spike pulled himself up again. “That means something.” “No, you kissed me. Maybe that means something to you, but all it means to me is that you’re a pig.” “You wanted it.” Spike grabbed her by the wrist so that she couldn’t walk away from him. “You kissed me back.” He gave her a knowing look. “You were all over me, so don’t tell me you didn’t –” “Spike! I can’t do this with you!” Buffy wasn’t sure what was making her angrier, the fact that Spike had kissed her, or the fact that, if she was honest with herself, he was right. She had wanted it. Badly. Glancing at Spike’s hand wrapped around her wrist, she realized both their hands were stained blue from the liquid Spike had spilled. She looked from their hands to the floor where the crystal shards lay in a puddle of wax. “It was a spell,” she said accusingly, jerking her arm away. “You did a love spell on me!” Spike’s face fell as he realized what had happened. Shame coursed through him at how willing he’d been to forget the spell, to pretend that Buffy really felt those things towards him. “No, love, I –” “What the hell is wrong with you?” Buffy’s eyes narrowed with anger. “How could you do this?” “I didn’t, Buffy, I swear!” She turned to go, and he rushed around to block her path. “It wasn’t meant to be for you. It – it was for me.” Buffy just stared at him, and he was forced to go on. “An anti-love spell. I wanted to stop loving you.” He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a second wave of embarrassment at that admission, that he had so little control over his own emotions he had to resort to a bloody spell to get over her. Buffy blinked in surprise. That wasn’t what she’d expected at all. Spike trying to manipulate her, trying to make her fall madly in love with him and return the feelings he had for her – yeah. But trying to stop loving her? That was different. She knitted her brows in thought, her heart racing. Spike took her perplexed expression and her silence as an indication of her disgust. “What do you want me to do, Slayer? You think I don’t know this is unnatural?” He slammed his palm against a pillar. “Vampire in love with the Slayer,” he said, in a mocking voice. “I’ve tried to get rid of it. I mean, God, Buffy, you died! And I still couldn’t get over you…” Spike assaulted the pillar again. “I’m weak, Slayer. I know it. Fucking weak, and it’s your fault! I can’t – can’t help it. I just keep looking for one little sign that maybe someday you’ll love me. But it’s got to stop.” “You’re right,” Buffy said coldly, all trace of emotion gone from her voice. She ignored the insistent signals her body was sending her, telling her she was still attracted to him. Remnants of the spell, she told herself. “It has to stop. I don’t love you. I will never love you.” She’d said it before – she’d even said worse – but the words still hit him like daggers. When he spoke, his tone was quiet and controlled. “Right, then. Maybe you should go.” Buffy realized she’d hurt him, and she tried to soften the blow. “Spike, that… what just happened between us… that wasn't real.” “You think I don’t know that?” he snapped. If it had been real, he wouldn’t be feeling like he’d just violated her. The spell had made her do things she never would have done with him if she were herself. It was one thing for him, because he already loved her – and bloody hell, he would have a hard time forgetting the sensation of her touching him – but if they'd gone much further, he'd have as good as raped her. He couldn't bear the thought of that – and his first instinct was to rail against Red, for screwing up yet another spell. But, honestly, the blame was his. He'd been careless, hadn't followed her instructions, and it had blown up in his face. He should have known better than to rely on magic. He couldn't take it anymore, what she was doing to him, the things she made him feel. If he couldn't get rid of the feelings, he'd have to get rid of her. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off sharply. “Don’t, Buffy. I need to… not be around you for a while.” “Spike, you can’t just –” “Get – the hell – OUT, Slayer!” he roared, and she ran out of the crypt, not stopping until she was a safe distance away.

Chapter #14 - The Downside of Clarity

A/N: The song in this chapter is "In the Sun" by Joseph Arthur. And heaps and barrels of thanks to UB for being a wonderful beta! ***** Chapter 14: The Downside of Clarity Buffy hurried home, too confused to try to find out anymore about the Acanthia demon’s attack. Her mind was still reeling from her encounter with Spike. She couldn’t believe he’d done that spell. The things he’d made her feel, the idea of what she’d almost done – she felt violated. She’d been kissing Spike, touching him so intimately, and she’d almost… but, no, it was more than that. As much as the physical stuff disturbed her, another thought was even more frightening. She’d been absolutely, completely in love with Spike. She shuddered at the thought. She remembered the time Willow had done that “my will be done” spell and they’d ended up engaged. She and Spike had been in love then, too. But they’d been enemies at the time – mostly – and shared equal parts in the disgust that followed the breaking of the spell. But this – it was awful, knowing that that was how Spike felt about her all of the time, that the way she’d reacted under the spell was what he longed for from her. Part of her understood why he’d done it, knew how hard it was to love someone who didn't love you back, how hard it was to stop loving someone. And she hadn't exactly made it easy for him. However, the rest of her was furious – how dare he screw with her emotions like that, take away her free will? Even if it was a mistake, that didn’t excuse it. If he’d actually had sex with her… oh, he’d so be dust right now. Then, he gets mad at her, when he was the one who'd done the stupid spell in the first place? Her stomach lurched as she remembered his last words to her. He was just… cutting her out of his life. That was maybe the worst part – losing something she hadn’t realized she wanted. She’d never asked to be the object of his unrequited love. She’d wanted to be just friends – to keep him tethered, but at a distance. But she couldn’t keep him there. He’d been her lifeline after her resurrection, the only one who understood her. He’d proved that again tonight outside Willy’s, with all that stuff he’d thrown at her, when he made her accept that “normal” wasn’t something she’d ever be – or even wanted to be. And wasn’t that a kick in the teeth? As though proving Spike’s point, she realized that Jacob hadn’t even crossed her mind since she’d walked into Spike’s crypt. The guy her friends were already calling her boyfriend, even after just two dates. She’d almost had sex with another guy, and poor Jacob didn’t even warrant a blip on the radar. Like it or not, Spike had been right on the money about that “needing someone to love the Slayer side, too” thing. Hadn’t she been aching to tell Jacob, to let him in? She wanted him to know about slaying and about how her friends were witches and werewolves and ex-demons. She wanted him to help her protect Dawn; she wanted to confide in him about all the things making her worry. But she couldn’t do any of that, not without scaring him away. Either he wouldn’t believe her and she’d seem like a mental patient, or he would believe her and he’d realize what a hellhole Sunnydale was – literally – and he’d be back in Chicago before you could say “one way ticket.” As much as she wanted his love and support, Jacob was just one more person she’d have to protect. One more worry, one more fear. And being close to her only put him in more danger. If something really was after her or Dawn, it might just get to Jacob, too. Spike was right. She was a Slayer. She needed a warrior, a champion, not a college student. Someone strong enough to make her feel safer, who fought demons by her side and protected her family and friends and… Oh, fuck. Spike. She had just described Spike. And… she was back to her other source of confusion for the night – sneaky little feelings that had been creeping up on her ever since the spell broke. She hated herself for even thinking of it. She couldn’t get involved with another vampire; she just would not allow it. She’d gone down that road with Angel, and it hadn’t been pretty. He’d been the love of her life, but he’d still been a mistake. As much as they’d loved each other, he’d brought her more pain than anyone else she’d ever known, because he was a vampire and she was the Slayer, and they were never ever supposed to be together. She couldn’t do that again. Not that it mattered, because it wasn’t her decision anymore. He kicked her out. Tears were welling up in her eyes as she reached her front porch. This whole night had been one long series of frustration and upheaval, most of it involving Spike. He’d left her with these jumbled up feelings that she was never good at sorting out – she’d always kind of sucked at the emotional stuff. Repression, thy name is Buffy, she told herself critically. She pushed the front door open and immediately realized that someone was in the house. She quickly sniffled and dabbed the moisture from her eyes with the pads of her thumbs to avoid smearing her eye makeup, pulling herself together. “Hello?” she called, making her way to the kitchen. “Oh, hey, Buffy,” said Tara, sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. She was reading a book and munching on a chocolate chip cookie – a plate of them sat on the counter. “Dawn wanted to come home. I figured you wouldn’t want her to be alone.” “Yeah, thanks. Is she asleep?” “I think so.” Tara closed the book, and Buffy realized it was one of Giles’ books on demon summoning and spells on controlling and forcing one’s will. Probably research to help Dawn. “I’m sorry… we probably should have gotten Spike…” “No!” Buffy responded, jerking involuntarily at then mention of his name. Calm down, you freak, she told herself. “I mean, you did the right thing. I ran into Spike at Willy’s anyway.” She tried to smile, but she was almost certain Tara didn’t buy it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late. I should have come back sooner.” “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Tara was always understanding and a soothing presence. Not for the first time, Buffy was thankful that her relationship with Willow had brought her into their circle. “We made cookies, if you want one.” Tara gestured to the plate. “No,” Buffy whispered, shaking her head. A renewed flood of tears was threatening to overwhelm her, and she struggled to maintain control. Tara noticed anyway. “Buffy? Is everything okay?” “Yeah,” she replied, with a tiny smile. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively. Tara came around the island and put an arm around Buffy. “I know you’re worried about Dawn. We’ll figure this out, I know we will. Nothing’s going to happen to her.” Buffy sighed. Dawn. Yeah, she was worried about that, too. And it would be even harder to protect her now, since she couldn’t rely on Spike anymore. Sure, he hadn’t said he didn’t want to be around Dawn – only her – but she wasn’t about to ask, not even by proxy. She didn’t have the right. “Thanks for staying, Tara.” “Anytime.” Buffy glanced at her. “I’m gonna need you and Will in this.” In more ways than one, she knew. Not only to look out for Dawn – the witches were her strongest allies if Spike was out – but if magic had been involved in the demon attack, they’d be key. “You should get home. Are you all right by yourself?” Tara nodded. “I drove.” “Good.” Buffy saw Tara out, then she returned to the kitchen. She glanced at the cookies, but her stomach was churning too much even for chocolate. She sank down on one of the stools, folded her arms on the island, and put her head down in the crook of her elbow. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. ***** Buffy awoke the next day in the same position, but with a much stiffer neck. She rolled her head and shoulders, joints popping with each movement, and dragged herself upstairs to shower. She turned the hot water up as far as it would go and stepped into the scalding stream. Her skin turned beet red, but Buffy withstood the heat, as though she could burn Spike’s touch from her body. She couldn’t erase him from her mind, though. She still felt sick when she thought about last night, but it had dulled into a constant nausea that didn’t make her feel quite so violently ill. She was just… sad. More than anything, it was his words that tormented her, and the thought that he’d taken away more than her free will last night. He’d also shattered her illusions. She couldn’t pretend that everything was okay. She couldn’t pretend that she and Spike were just friends, and that his feelings for her were just a harmless crush. And she couldn’t pretend that things would be okay if she kept her secret double life from anyone close to her. She got out of the shower right before her skin started to blister. Thank goodness for Slayer healing. She wrapped herself in a big towel, with a smaller one around her hair, and headed back to her bedroom, hitting the “on” button on her radio. I picture you in the sun wondering what went wrong And falling down on your knees asking for sympathy And being caught in between all you wish for and all you seen And trying to find anything you can feel that you can believe in Buffy stood in front of her mirror and towel-dried her hair, sighing at her reflection. When had her life gotten like this? When had she drifted so far from normal that she couldn’t even maintain simple relationships? She remembered her words when Willow first suggested fixing her up with Jacob. I just need a lot less complicated in my life right now. So much for that idea. Complicated. Normal. They were just words, meaningless words that gave her little comfort or understanding. Buffy flopped down on her bed, her wet hair surrounding her head, darkening her pillows with moisture. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, as if all the right answers would appear to her in the cracked plaster. I know I would apologize if I could see your eyes 'Cause when you showed me myself I became someone else But I was caught in between all you wish for and all you need I picture you fast asleep, a nightmare comes, you can't keep awake Her mind whirled with confusion, with questions she didn’t have the answers to. All she had was this ache in her chest that told her she was foolish. She shouldn’t give up so easily. It was against her better judgment. Jacob was a great guy, everything she wanted… No. Not everything. Not if she listened to Spike. But why was she listening to Spike? Because he’s right, a voice inside her said. Whether you admit you have feelings for him or not, you know he’s right about this. You need someone who can love the Slayer. Maybe Jacob could, a competing voice argued. You never gave him the chance. She rolled over and picked up the phone. She needed a second opinion. Willow? Or Tara, maybe. She was always good to talk to. Or Xander – it might be nice to have a guy’s perspective. But none of her friends could really help. Because as much as they lived in her world and fought her battles alongside her, they didn’t know what it was really like. They didn’t understand the true burden of being a Slayer. They didn’t know what it was like to be alone, truly alone, even when surrounded by your friends. They didn’t know how it felt to dole out grim death every night, an executioner of evil, but an executioner nonetheless. They didn’t know what it meant to have to make decisions that determined whether people lived or died. They didn’t know what it was to live in constant fear that someday a smarter-than-average demon would figure out that the way to hurt her was to prey on the weakest of her friends. They didn’t know what it was like to hold everyone you love at a distance, because you know that one day, they’ll be taken away from you. No, none of them could understand, none of them could help. She dropped the phone back in its cradle and felt terribly alone. 'Cause if I find If I find my own way How much will I find If I find If I find my own way How much will I find you With a sigh, Buffy got up, leaving her towel on the bed. She padded around her room on her bare feet, picking out clothes and getting dressed. She slipped on her oldest and comfiest pair of jeans. They were horribly faded, practically threadbare, and ripped at one knee, with a complementary slash on the opposite thigh where some Big Bad had gotten her with a knife. Buffy remembered her mother often begging to be allowed to throw them away, but Buffy had simply laughed and replied that she’d only just broken them in. They were looser now than they used to be, but there was nothing to be done about that. They’d already been stretched by wear and shrunk by the dryer as far as they would go. She nearly tripped herself when she accidentally stuck her foot through the hole in the knee, rather than through the pant leg, but still Buffy refused to give them up. They brought her comfort – a security blanket for the fashion-obsessed. I don't know anymore what it's for, I'm not even sure If there is anyone who is in the sun, will you help me to understand 'Cause I been caught in between all I wish for and all I need Maybe you're not even sure what it's for any more than me Pulling a T-shirt over her head, she sat back down on the bed and picked up the phone again. She took a deep breath before dialing. “Hey, Jacob? It’s Buffy.” May God's love be with you Always May God's love be with you With a final breath to compose herself, Buffy headed downstairs, where Dawn was in the kitchen puttering around fixing breakfast, which appeared to consist of leftover pizza and chocolate chip cookies. “Morning,” Dawn said. She offered Buffy the cookies. “Want some?” Buffy wrinkled her nose. “How about something vaguely healthy for a change? Do we have any cereal?” Dawn nodded and gestured to the cabinet with her head. Buffy looked inside and pulled out a box of Cocoa Puffs. She shrugged and poured herself a bowl. That was as close as they got to healthy in this house. “So, anything new on the demon thing?” asked Dawn. Buffy shook her head. “Don’t worry, Dawnie. We’ll keep working on it.” “You better. I’m all you got.” Buffy sighed. Dawn didn’t realize how right she was. She grabbed one of the chocolate chip cookies and took a bite. “This cookie tastes funny.” “It’s laced with arsenic.” “Great. Saves me from having to do it myself.” She looked up to see Dawn glaring at her. “What? I was kidding.” They stared at each other for a moment, before Dawn reached over and spontaneously gave Buffy a hug. Buffy returned the embrace, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Hey… what was that for?” Dawn shrugged. “You looked like you needed it.”

Chapter #15 - Connections

Chapter 15: Connections Another day of research, another day of thrashing demons, and they were no closer to figuring out the mystery. Buffy was starting to think maybe they’d all made too much of a little thing. Maybe there was no magical controlling force that made the Acanthia demon attack their house. Maybe it really was just a coincidence. As far as she could tell, there hadn’t been any subsequent attempts on Dawn’s life. And from what Giles had said, the Acanthia seemed dumb enough to attack the Slayer’s house and not realize it. In fact, Buffy would have been willing to write the whole thing off as a fluke, save for an off-hand comment that Anya made one night, when Buffy stopped by the magic shop after work. “It’s just weird, isn’t it?” said Anya. “That there’s two demons possibly summoned by someone mysterious, and we never figured out who.” Giles glanced up from the book he was reading. “Two?” “Well, the dragon and the Acanthia.” Everyone looked around at each other worriedly. They’d all pretty much forgotten about their dragon encounter. With all the bad blood that had resulted from it, it didn’t get mentioned much. “Good Lord,” said Giles. “Yes, of course. The dragon would have been summoned by magical forces, using that talisman you found. Anya, do you still have it?” Anya unlocked a drawer under the cash register and pulled out the talisman. It was a dark grey oval-shaped stone, about the size of a silver dollar, flat, with carvings on one side and a red crystal embedded in the other. Giles studied the side with the carvings carefully, and then placed it in the middle of the table for the others to look at. “I don’t know what the inscription means; I’ll have to look it up. Is there blood on that? I can’t quite tell.” Xander picked it up and looked at it, then handed it to Buffy with a shake of his head. She couldn’t tell if there was blood on it either. The stone was too dark. “You know who’d be able to detect blood?” said Willow. “Does it really matter, Giles?” Buffy asked, cutting Willow off before she could finish. “I mean, we found the girl. Her blood had been drained for the ritual.” “You’re probably right. We know it was involved. Buffy,” Giles said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Did you happen to look around your house for something similar? A second talisman, perhaps?” “For the second demon… no, but I’ll check right now.” Buffy was already halfway out the door. She found it on the ground, next to the steps that led up to the back porch. This one was different, an oblong green crystal fastened to a bundle of sticks tied with rawhide strips. She was pretty sure it was a talisman though. She brought it back to the Magic Box to show the others. “You think both of these demons are part of the same plot?” “Sure looks that way,” Xander replied. Tara had pulled out the book where they’d found the Acanthia demon and re-read the description. “Nothing here about a talisman,” she told them. “Look up general talismans,” Giles instructed, sniffing the bundle. “In that book I gave you on summoning spells. I believe this is cypress.” “I don’t get it,” said Willow. “That dragon was summoned in the woods near Xander’s apartment. That’s nowhere near your house, Buffy.” “What are you saying, Will?” Buffy asked. “If whoever is doing this was really after Dawn – or even you – wouldn’t it want the dragon closer to you guys?” Buffy sighed and sank down into a chair at the research table. “Well, there go all my theories. This sucks.” “It’s not like we had any really good ones anyway.” Xander plopped into the seat beside her. “I mean, what do we know? It attacked your house for some reason…” “Which we now know was the talisman,” Anya filled in. “So, probably, whoever put the talisman there is the person trying to kill you… or Dawn. But then there’s the dragon, so probably you.” “Thanks, Anya,” said Buffy, in a tired voice. “That’s real helpful.” She massaged her forehead with one hand. “Giles, who’s doing this, and why? What do they want from me?” The Watcher bowed his head at her plaintive tone. He wished he could offer comfort to his charge, but this time, he had no answers to give. “I – I don’t know, Buffy,” he said, taking off his glasses and falling back on his habit of polishing away his discomfort from his lenses. “I’m afraid there just aren’t enough dots to connect to determine a motive.” “So, basically,” Buffy said, “we’re nowhere close to figuring this out, are we?” Giles donned his glasses and collected both talismans, an idea suddenly occurring to him. “I think we may need more help. I have an old friend, a wizard, who lives up near Yosemite. Perhaps he can be of assistance.” Buffy looked at him with alarm. “You’re leaving?” “I’ll be back in a few days,” he assured her. He shook his head and sighed. “I’m afraid this is beyond my knowledge. It’s not… looking things up in books. I wish I could just point you at something to slay, but I can’t. It’s – psychological, Buffy. It requires understanding those who do magic, and why someone would use it for such a thing as this. Why they would use it against you.” “And you think this wizard guy can help with that?” Tara chimed in, intrigued by this new wrinkle in the magic elements of their mystery demon summoner. “I certainly hope so,” Giles replied. “If anyone understands the ins and outs of wizards, it’s he.” ***** When Buffy arrived at the Magic Box after work, Dawn was already there, doing her homework, while Anya tended shop and Xander and Willow did research. She was disappointed to hear that there was nothing new to report. “When’s Giles getting back?” she whined. It hadn’t even been 24 hours, but Buffy was anxious. “Just relax, Buffy. It won’t make him come any quicker,” said Xander. “I’m going out patrolling again tonight.” Buffy stretched her arms in an effort to expend her fidgety energy. “Maybe that’ll help my nerves. Anybody want to stay with Dawn while I do?” “Not us,” Xander replied. “Anya and I have a special night planned.” “It’s all very romantic,” said Anya. “I’m even closing the shop early.” Buffy raised her eyebrows. It must be a momentous occasion if Anya Show-Me-the-Money Jenkins was closing early. “What about you, Will?” Willow studied her for a moment, wearing an expression Buffy couldn’t quite interpret, as though perhaps the witch were trying to puzzle out something that Buffy wasn’t aware she was hiding. Then, it passed, and Willow shook her head. “I’ve got a thing… the school’s fixed me up with a prospective student.” “UC Sunnydale is now a dating service?” Buffy joked. Willow smiled slightly. “They spend the night, and we show them around, give them an idea of what the school is like, you know. ‘Hang out with an actual living student’ kind of thing.” “As opposed to the less popular ‘hang out with a dead student’ thing,” replied the Slayer. Xander looked up. “You know, if it were any other town, that would be funny.” “What’s Tara doing?” Buffy asked, now onto her last resort. “She has to go to a lecture for class tonight. I’m sorry, Buffy,” said Willow. “I could try to change my plans…” Buffy shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll just…” “What about Spike?” Dawn suggested. “No,” she said quickly. “Dawn, you can stay by yourself. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” The younger girl’s face lit up. “Really?” “Just don’t leave the house, promise?” “Buff,” Xander said warily, “you sure that’s a good idea?” “I’ll make it a short patrol. Willow and Tara have protection spells on the house six ways to Sunday. Nothing’s getting in.” She turned back to Dawn. “Just keep the doors locked, don’t open the door for anyone, and for God’s sake, don’t give out any invitations.” “Hey, uh, Buffy? Could I talk to you for a minute?” Buffy turned her attention back to Willow, who was again wearing that inscrutable expression. “Sure,” she said, following the redheaded witch into the training room. “What’s up?” “Buffy, what – what’s wrong with you?” She said it in a concerned voice, not accusatory at all, and it made Buffy want to break down all her barriers and tell Willow everything. “Is there… something going on? With Spike?” Buffy ran her hands over her face and through her hair. She’d kept it all inside, ashamed of the situation she’d found herself in, yet unwilling, for Spike’s sake, to admit what he had done. In spite of everything, she didn’t want to give her friends another reason to hate him. “He did some sort of spell,” she told Willow hesitantly. “I don’t know what it was supposed to do, but it didn’t work, and I just – ugh.” She shook her hands at her sides, as if she could shake off the essence of Spike like water. Willow’s mouth opened in surprise. “It didn’t work?” “No! At least, if I believe him.” Buffy shrugged, as if she weren’t sure whether to believe him or not. If she noticed the witch’s sudden investment in the tale, it didn’t show. She walked over to the pommel horse and leaned against it. “He said it was an anti-love spell, but I sure wasn’t feeling the ‘anti’! God! I was…” She trailed off, thinking of exactly what she’d been doing. “With Spike!” “Oh, no…” “What?” When she didn’t answer, Buffy said, “Will? You didn’t have something to do with this, did you?” “I may have, um…” Buffy pushed off the pommel horse, standing up straight, her eyes glittering with anger. “You gave him the spell, didn’t you? Willow, how could you?” “I’m sorry, Buffy, I –” “Don’t you ever stop meddling? These are people’s lives, Will! You can’t just…” She broke off, too upset to finish her thought. Willow backed up a couple steps, a wounded expression on her face. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I’m so… It wasn’t supposed to go like that,” she said, her tone pleading. “It was just… You didn’t see him. He was so wrecked. He wanted to get over you.” Buffy’s mouth twitched, her anger subsiding somewhat at the combination of Willow’s guilt and Spike’s pain. “He was… really?” Willow nodded, taking a tentative step toward her friend. “You didn’t… did you, maybe, say something that would…” “We had a fight,” she admitted with a sigh. “About Jacob. I accused him of being jealous – which he totally is – and he told me I shouldn’t try to be a normal girl.” “And then…?” “And then I told him he was full of shit and to stop psychoanalyzing me,” Buffy groaned, taking a seat on the bench on the side of the room. “Huh.” Willow sank down next to her. “Buffy? Can I – can I ask you something?” When she nodded, Willow said, “If Spike was so full of it… I mean, it’s just…” She took a deep breath before blurting it out. “I talked to Jacob. He said…” “I broke up with him. Yeah,” Buffy admitted. “Why? Because of… Spike?” Buffy bent over, leaning her elbows on her knees and burying her face in her hands. “I – I don’t know.” “Do you, um… do you have feelings for him? For Spike, I mean.” Buffy’s head snapped up in alarm, and Willow hurried to add, “Because it – it’d be okay if you did.” Even as she tried to reassure her friend, Willow knew it wasn’t that simple. She’d always had a soft spot for the vampire, but the others wouldn’t be quite as forgiving. “I don’t know.” Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, to keep the tears from falling. “I’m just so confused, Will.” Willow wrapped her arms around her best friend, hugging her tightly. “It’s okay, Buffy.” “I don’t even know why the hell I listened to Spike in the first place.” The witch wrinkled her nose in thought. “Because he’s frighteningly perceptive? But also completely in love with you, so… maybe a little biased?” “I just can’t… you don’t know what it feels like, Will. It’s like – have you ever really wanted something? Like, it was all you ever dreamed of, and then one day, you realized you were never, ever gonna get it?” Willow nodded. “I used to want to be an astronaut – you know, until my mom explained to me about the rocket speed, and the flying, and – and the whole fire thing. Oh, and the small, claustrophobic spaces.” She paused, reining in the babbling. “But, uh, this isn’t about me. Go on,” she encouraged Buffy. “That’s what it feels like,” Buffy said, “admitting Spike is right. I never wanted any of this – I didn’t ask to be the Slayer. I didn’t ask to be different. All I ever wanted was to be a normal girl, and now it feels like I’m giving that up. Like a huge dungeon door just slammed shut in my face, with me on one side and normal on the other.” She bowed her head again, choking back a sob. “It hurts, Will. It feels like… like I’m watching everything I ever wanted disappear, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” Willow reached out and rubbed gentle, soothing circles across the Slayer’s back, as her best friend mourned the loss of her dreams. “It’s okay, Buffy,” she said softly. “Normal’s not all it’s cracked up to be, you know?” Buffy gave her a watery smile. “I still can’t help feeling like I made a terrible mistake. Like maybe I didn’t give Jacob enough of a chance.” “Would that have made you happy?” Buffy bit her lip. “I don’t know.” “Because you should do whatever makes you happy, Buffy, no matter what anyone says – any of us, or Giles, or Spike, or anybody.” “I don’t even think I know what that is.” “You’ll figure it out.” She squeezed Buffy’s hand. “Hey, are you really sure you’re okay with Dawn being home alone? You’re not just being crazy irrational because of all the other stuff going on?” Buffy shook her head, a slight smile creeping onto her face. “Not irrational. I just can’t – with Spike, you know? Everything’s too complicated. But I’m sure she’ll be fine with the wards up.” She stood, but hesitated before going back out to the storefront. “Hey, Will?” she said, as the other girl followed her up off the bench. “You would’ve made a great astronaut.” Willow grinned, wrapping an arm around Buffy and squeezing her into a lopsided hug as she pulled her towards the door.

Chapter #16 - Too Far

Chapter 16: Too Far Buffy had hoped that the novelty of being allowed to stay home alone would distract her sister from the obvious absence of her favorite baby-sitter. No such luck. On the walk home from the Magic Box, Dawn peppered her with questions. “What’s the matter with Spike?” When Buffy didn’t answer, she went on, “I know something happened. You wouldn’t let me stay by myself unless you really didn’t want Spike around.” She paused and glared at Buffy. “Did you two have a fight?” The look on her face told Buffy in no uncertain terms that if they’d had a fight, Buffy was almost certainly to blame, and would face the wrath of Dawn for sending away her best friend. “Yeah,” Buffy admitted. “We – we kinda did.” “Did you hit him?” Dawn asked in an accusing tone. “No!” she retorted. “Well, yes. I guess I did, but –” “He doesn't like that,” her sister mumbled. “That's not the point, Dawn.” Dawn folded her arms across her chest. “What was the fight about?” Buffy sighed. “It was about… Spike – did something that was not okay, Dawnie,” she said carefully, avoiding the details of their near sexual encounter. She wanted to make Dawn understand, but she didn’t want to say anything that might tarnish her sister’s impressions of the vampire. Also – sex talk with Dawn? Permanently scarring. “I got upset, and he got upset, and, well, we're not… really speaking right now.” Dawn scowled. “You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a child.” Then she glanced up in alarm. “He didn’t kill anyone, did he?” “No! No, nothing like that.” Buffy put an arm around her sister. “He just… he went a little too far and he – well, I think it’s best if we stay away from each other.” Dawn wondered what she meant by that. Went too far how? She remembered how he first expressed his love for Buffy – that was crazy – but Drusilla had been around then, and she probably made him a little insane. He’d never do anything like that again. She wondered if it had something to do with Jacob. Had he said something to Jacob? Done something? Dawn just couldn’t imagine the same vampire who sat on her couch and let her paint his nails while telling her how he’d always love Buffy and he’d always take care of her – she just couldn’t see him doing something to make Buffy cut him out of their lives. “Buffy, he’d never hurt us! You know that!” Buffy could hear the hysterical tinge in her sister’s voice. “Just talk to him, Buffy!” “Dawn! I don’t want to argue about this with you.” “You are such a big stupid moron. I can’t believe you did this!” Dawn stormed into the house and stomped up the stairs. Her tantrum was punctuated by the slamming of her bedroom door, and Buffy sighed, feeling her sister’s words pierce her like the cool steel of a blade. Why was she taking the blame for this? She’d been so careful to omit the fact that Spike had been the one who told her to go. But that was because she was protecting Dawn, right? She wasn’t… ashamed that he’d kicked her out, was she? This whole thing was his fault. Okay, maybe she’d gotten angry and been cruel to him, but he deserved it, right? For that damned love spell. For being so damned perceptive. For knowing what she wanted. For being what she wanted. Buffy shuddered and sank down in a chair in the living room. That was it – she was admitting it, the hard truth she hadn’t been able to express to Willow in the training room. She had feelings for Spike. She could scream about it, she could cry about it, she could pound demons until her fists ached, but that didn’t change things. She couldn’t tell him, though. She didn’t think she’d be able to get the words out, even if she wanted to – which, let’s be clear, she did not want to. God, he’d be unbearable. She heard his arguments over again in her head. You don’t want someone who just treats you like a normal girl. You want someone who loves all of you – the Slayer, too. She heard the unspoken conclusion: I love you. I love the Slayer. Love me, Buffy – choose me. She absolutely hated the idea that he could love without a soul. If he could love her without one, why couldn’t Angel? It brought their entire relationship into harsh relief, and she couldn’t help wondering if Angel had ever really loved her. Maybe he’d just been in love with the idea of her. Innocent, pure, fighting for the triumph of good over evil – all things that appealed to the soul. But as her, the girl, Buffy… maybe he’d never – maybe that’s why it was so easy to leave her. No. No no no no no no no. It hurt. It hurt too much to think about, that maybe her one true love, her first great romance, her soul mate, hadn’t been that at all. It was the soul – it had to be the soul that changed things. But… then there was Spike. The feelings were there; she couldn’t deny that. He really did feel something, something strong enough to make him give up his evil ways, fight at her side, put up with her friends, become fiercely loyal to Dawn – all for her. Maybe Willow was right, and normal wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. She’d tried normal, hadn’t she? Angel had left her so she’d have the chance at a normal life, and what did she get? A one-night stand that made her feel like a fool and the all-American boy who turned out to be part of some vast military conspiracy. The thought of a lover who accepted the Slayer side of her was tempting. She shook her head, trying to imagine where her relationship with Jacob might have led. Sneaking off to patrol without him knowing, keeping him separate from the demons she interacted with every day, going back to the double life she’d led in high school before her mother knew. Keeping herself in check, being careful not to bruise the boy, as Spike so eloquently put it that one time. That wasn’t what she wanted. The burden she carried was hard enough, without the extra weight of keeping secrets from the ones she loved. But if Spike was so damned perceptive, if he could tell her what was wrong with her life and what she really wanted, why couldn’t he tell how she felt? If she was honest with herself, wasn’t that what she wanted when she said she didn’t love him? Even if she didn’t want to hear it at the time, she’d expected him to fight back. She’d expected him to say – as he had so many times before – yes, she did love him, even if she didn’t realize it. Then, she wouldn’t have to say it. She wanted him to tell her about the heat and the passion they had. How their chemistry was overwhelming and even when they were trying to kill each other, they wanted each other. How every time they fought it was another move in their dance. But he didn’t say any of that. He gave up and kicked her out. Maybe Willow was right about that, too. Maybe she’d wrecked him beyond repair. If he was so desperate that he was looking for a spell to cure his feelings, he must have truly given up. Buffy was starting to think that was what hurt the most. Now, she wasn’t sure which was worse, a vampire who loved her, or a vampire who didn’t want to. There was only one salve for this ache. “Dawnie?” she called up the stairs. No answer. “I’m going out for patrol. I have my cell phone if you –” She was cut off abruptly by the slamming of a door. Again. Buffy was pretty sure Dawn had just opened her bedroom door for the express purpose of slamming it again for emphasis. Well, she got the message. “…need anything,” she finished, mostly to herself. She heaved another sigh, rummaged through her weapons chest for a few good stakes, and headed out the door for patrol. ***** Buffy stopped short as she rounded the corner of the mausoleum. The vampire she’d been chasing was gone, and in his place was Spike, leaning casually against a gravestone, a post-slayage curl of smoke rising from his lips. His gaze was cast across the cemetery, away from her, but she could see the faint tremor that went through his body as he caught her scent. He turned slowly and fixed her with a closed, unreadable stare. Then, without a word, he pivoted on his heel and started walking in the opposite direction. She ran after him, even though her heart felt like it had fallen out on the ground behind her. “Spike, wait!” He stopped. “Oh, sorry,” he said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and gesturing with it towards the pile of dust. “Did you want to do that? Didn't mean to step on any toes, love.” He said the pet name with such disdain it made her flinch. “I’ll be sure to let you have a go at him next time.” Buffy glared at him, desperately fighting down her rising emotions. “Next time?” she asked, keeping her tone as haughty as his, not letting him see how much he hurt her. “I thought you wanted to stay away from me.” “Yeah. Hence the walking away.” He turned to go again, but this time Buffy caught his arm. “Wait – can we…?” “Not really.” He shook off her grasp and began striding away without a second glance. “I wasn’t looking for you,” she said to his retreating form. “I’m the Slayer. She who hangs out in cemeteries. You had to know I might show up.” He spun back around with such force his leather coat whipped around his knees. “There are eleven other cemeteries in Sunnydale! Go hang out in one of those!” His expression was almost pleading as he said, softer, “This is my turf, Buffy. I live here.” His turf. And she was intruding. “Fine,” she said, her tone much lighter than she felt. “I'll just leave you to your skulking.” She owed him that much, at least, to give him the distance he’d asked for. She turned and started toward the street, her head bowed, hands shoved in her pockets. Spike watched her go, feeling his willpower seeping away with every step she took. The past few days had been hell without her. He’d told her to leave so he could have some space to clear his head, get himself sorted out. But he couldn’t escape her. If possible, things were even more muddled now than they’d been before. He still craved her with every fiber of his being, and hated himself for it all the while. He’d wrestled with himself so many times to keep from going to her, but seeing that tragic little face, the too-wide eyes glittering with tears, the slight pout she didn’t even know she was making – she was his undoing. He screwed up his mouth into a scowl, then threw his cigarette on the ground and stomped on it. Running after Buffy, he caught up to her in the street. “Look, Buffy, I –” That was as far as he got when several vampires caught his eye about half a block down. “Trouble,” he warned her. She turned and saw the vamps, and without needing to communicate, they both started sprinting toward the gang. They jumped right into the fray, but only got in a few punches each before they found themselves back to back, circling in place as the vampires surrounded them. “You got a plan, pet?” Spike asked over his shoulder. Buffy handed him a stake. “Don’t fall on this.” Spike looked down at the pointy wood in his hand. “Right, then.” He shrugged and took a deep breath, then charged at the closest vampire, staking him instantly. Buffy followed his cue and started fighting furiously. She spun and kicked her way through the gang, staking three in quick succession. Spike watched her out of the corner of his eye, and staked another vamp before it had the chance to grab him from behind. He was all too aware of how easy it was to get swept up in just watching her move. She was like quicksilver, fighting with a liquid grace enviable to even a preternatural creature like himself. He soon realized he was about to get a demonstration, up close and personal. Having lost the element of surprise, their remaining opponents were driving Spike and Buffy towards one another, intending to surround them again. He glanced at her, only for a moment, but it was enough to meet her eyes in unspoken understanding. His body tensed, waiting for her signal. “Switch!” she barked, and Spike immediately bent low, as Buffy launched herself onto his back, rolling across him and landing lightly on her feet on his other side. They moved together as though they’d always fought side-by-side, instead of the adversaries they’d once been. By the time he straightened up, she was already forcing his attacker away with sharp, powerful blows. Spike took on two vampires at once while they were still disoriented from the change-up he and Buffy had just pulled. Always keeping one eye on the Slayer, even as he delivered sweeping kicks to his opponents with glee, he saw Buffy take a blow to the chest and smiled as she rolled out of the fall and sprang right back up. Couldn’t keep his girl down. As she blocked punches from the vampire she was fighting, Buffy saw Spike stake one, only to be picked up by his leather coat and tossed in the air by the last remaining vamp. Her stomach seemed to drop as if she’d been the one thrown, and she let out a stream of curses that would’ve made Spike proud if he’d heard it. Spike smashed into the pavement several yards away and lay there, unmoving. With newfound urgency, Buffy cut right to the chase and staked her vamp, then took a running leap, hurtling onto the back of the last one before he could get to Spike. She wrestled the vampire to the ground and delivered a swift blow to the chest, the body beneath her turning to dust. Spike sat up, rubbing his head, trying to shake off a potential concussion. When he lifted his gaze, Buffy was standing over him, her hand extended to help him up off the ground. He hesitated for a moment then accepted it with a nod of thanks. “Good fight,” said Spike, once again in a vertical position. “Yeah.” Her voice was a breathy whisper, her chest heaving from the exertion. Her face was glowing, as rivulets of sweat trickled down her hairline. The salty tang mixed with the scent of arousal coming off her in waves, and he had to fight down the desire to ravish her right there. A thoroughly male instinct drew his eyes to the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, but guilt quickly made him look away. That was when Spike noticed she hadn’t let go of his hand. He gently, almost reluctantly, withdrew from her grasp, unable to keep his fingers from winding through hers as he pulled away. He started to turn, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder. “I should, uh, get going then…” He trailed off as Buffy captured his hand again and kept him from leaving. “Spike…” she murmured, clinging to him. “Please – just… Don’t go.” He looked at her and was amazed to see her eyes burning with emotion, with everything she’d been holding inside before the fight. “Buffy?” he asked, not quite believing his eyes as he watched the desperate plea flicker across her face. It was all he could manage before she lifted one hand to caress his cheek, a light, sensual touch that sent shivers down his spine. Then, she was kissing him, and all coherent thoughts flew out of his brain.

Chapter #17 - Wounded

Chapter 17: Wounded As soon as her mouth found Spike’s, Buffy knew that patrol was a lost cause. The kiss was desperate, graceless, driven by desires left pent up for far too long to bother with sweetness. For five years, they’d danced around each other, fighting their attraction with words and weapons, fists and fangs. A thousand moments – tender, sexual, bantering, violent – piling on top of one another in a never-ending spiral of tension and unfulfilled need, until it exploded in the unrestrained passion that seized them now. Buffy gripped Spike’s T-shirt, twisting the fabric in her fists. Her brain was screaming at her, the wrongness of it all, but for once, she didn’t care, didn’t think. It felt good, and she was swept back to the night in Spike’s crypt, when the spell had created such a longing for him, such a need – she felt it all again, only this time there was no spell to blame. This is what it feels like to let go, she thought, taking Spike’s lower lip between her teeth, swallowing the moan that slipped from his mouth. To just be me, instead of the me everyone wants me to be. To do what she wanted, instead of what everyone thought was best for her. As much as he wanted to lose himself in her, let himself drown and never surface again, Spike soon disentangled himself and pulled away. He felt a deep ache blossoming in his head and his chest as soon as he came back to himself, and he wasn’t sure if he was injured, or just anticipating a broken heart. “What are you doing?” he asked, sounding more defensive than he would have liked as he tried to rein in his emotions. Buffy looked slightly hurt. “I thought it was pretty self-explanatory.” “The boy?” He was breathless from her kiss, despite not needing the air, and his voice came out raspy, unable to mask the pain at the expected rejection. “Over,” she murmured, feeling his sigh of relief against her cheek as she pulled his head back in close to hers. He closed his eyes, running his hands through her hair as he let her place kisses along his jaw and at the corner of his mouth. But when her tongue again caressed his lips, seeking entrance, he ducked his head, breaking away, unsure of himself. “I don’t get it, Buffy. What is this? If you’re playin’ at something –” “I’m not!” she insisted, her eyes shimmering with the shame of knowing that her treatment had conditioned him to expect manipulation and rejection instead of affection. “I’m the one in love with you, remember? Shouldn’t it be me doing the inappropriate kissing, and then you hit me and run away?” “I know… I just…” She faltered, unable to explain the emotions that were tumbling around inside her. She didn’t want to be explaining. She just wanted to be kissing him. She didn’t want to have to think, only to feel, to let herself be swept away by the rush of emotions she wasn’t sure she’d ever have the courage to let out again. Whether sensing her need or acting on his own, Spike gave her what she sought. “Ah, screw it,” he mumbled, pulling her into his arms again. At this point, he didn’t care to protect his fragile heart anymore. As long as she was kissing him, it was worth the pain. Her lips felt like fire against his, her tongue warm in his mouth as they battled to devour each other. Spike’s hands slid down her body until they rested on her backside, his fingertips digging in between her legs, pulling her tighter against him. The pressure from his grip caused a flare of heat in her center, and Buffy responded by wrapping her legs around his waist. He clutched her to his chest, swallowing a groan of need and pain, and he could feel her racing heart beating as though it might burst out of her tiny frame. Buffy felt like she was lost in him. All her senses were filled with Spike, the rest of the world fading away in a cloud of cigarette smoke and leather, and the smooth, metallic traces of blood and bourbon on his tongue. She ground against him, feeling his belt buckle through her thin cotton pants, catching her in just the right spot to make her gasp. He kissed her neck, and she pressed her cheek against his, the coolness of his touch bringing relief to her burning skin. She shifted her weight, pressing heavily on his chest, and this time he couldn’t hold in the involuntary wince. Immediately, she pulled away and unhooked her legs from his waist, dropping back to the ground. “Oh, God, you’re hurt.” “I’m fine, Slayer,” he protested, batting away her persistent hands as she tried to feel him for injuries. “You’re not fine.” She reached up and touched the wound on the side of his head, streaking his blond locks with red. “Come on, let me fix you up.” He jerked away from her touch. “’S not as bad as it looks. Head wounds just bleed a lot.” “And it’ll heal a lot faster if you let me fix it up for you. Besides, I think your ribs are broken. Like, possibly all of them. Come on. Just let me take you home.” Spike sighed. “All right. Just give me a minute, Slayer,” he said, feeling light-headed from the combination of the knock on the head and Buffy. “You sure can get a fellow worked up.” When she set off again, he followed her like the obedient puppy that he was. Yeah, he’d said that whole thing about having his dignity and wanting to get over her. But that was before she kissed him. Now… well, he was pretty much putty in her hands. He still found himself tensed, on alert, waiting for the trap to spring shut – as though the Scoobies might jump out of the bushes, stakes in hand, at any moment. He really couldn’t let himself believe it was happening, that Buffy finally gave in to the emotions he knew she felt. He just couldn’t believe that she finally stopped pretending she’d be happy with some regular bloke and recognized what they could have together. It couldn’t be. He knew her too well for that. But if she wanted to let off steam or take a walk on the wild side or however she justified it to herself, he wasn’t in any position to complain. As they turned onto Revello Drive, Spike spotted a nasty-looking demon. “I’ve got this one,” Buffy assured him, leaving him to watch her fight. He tried to quash the feelings that arose as his eyes followed her graceful movements. Even when she uprooted a mailbox and impaled the demon with it, he couldn’t help feeling turned on. This was bad. This was bad on so many levels, but he couldn’t help himself. He was falling, falling into her, and she was bottomless, and he thought he might never touch ground again. As soon as they made it in the house, Spike grabbed Buffy and pressed her against the door, kissing her again. She responded willingly, his forcefulness exciting her even more. But when she ran her fingers through his hair and they came away stained with blood, she remembered why she’d brought him back there. Breaking the kiss, she said, “Wait here. I’ll be back with the first aid kit.” He sank down on the sofa, his mind reeling with the implications of everything. If she wants me… he thought, overwhelmed by the possibility. He glanced almost disbelievingly toward the stairs, already losing himself to a fantasy that quickly spiraled out of control. Then, logic crept in. Right, mate. Would you like some coffee with your morning staking? Maybe a side of toast? Because that’s what you’ll be if you do this. He knew she’d stumbled into something she’d regret in the morning, and she’d blame him and he’d be dust in no time. He had to get out of here before things went too far. Maybe they’d already gone too far. He stood up abruptly and started towards the door, but Buffy suddenly appeared from the kitchen with the first aid kit. “Hey, where are you going?” she chastised. “You shouldn’t be – sit down and let me take a look at you.” Reluctantly, he obeyed, returning to his spot on the sofa. She perched on the coffee table, the mirror image of the night she’d first come back, when he’d tried to take care of her bloodied hands. A wave of tenderness washed over her at the memory, and she reached up with gentle fingers to swab antiseptic on the cut on his head. “’S already stopped bleeding, see?” he said. “Shush. Just let me do this, all right?” But she could see that he was right, and once she’d cleaned the dried blood from his hair, he didn’t even need a bandage. Next, she slid her hands inside his coat, brushing the duster off his shoulders, letting her hands linger there a moment longer than necessary. He hesitated, studying her eyes carefully for a sign of her intentions, and then shrugged out of the coat, leaving it balled up behind him on the sofa. She ran her hands slowly down each arm, feeling for any sign of injury. His sharp intake of breath when she reached his right wrist told her she’d found what she was looking for. His palm and the underside of his wrist were scraped from skidding across the pavement, as though he’d put that hand out to ease his fall. It was a shallow wound, but the skin was all torn up and little bits of asphalt were stuck in the cuts. “Does your wrist feel sprained?” she asked, dabbing with a disinfectant pad. His only answer was a hiss of pain at the sting. “Sorry,” she said quickly, dropping the pad in favor of a roll of gauze to wrap his hand and wrist, so he wouldn’t irritate the abrasion further if he brushed against anything. Once she’d finished, he rolled his wrist experimentally, testing for pain. When he shook his head, she moved on, sliding her hand up under his shirt to feel his ribs. He gritted his teeth against her soft touch, as her fingers lightly pressed into his skin. “I think they might be broken,” she told him. “Let me wrap them for you.” She reached for the hem of his shirt, but he caught her by the wrists. “No!” he said hoarsely, startling her with the force of the word. He swallowed, barely able to resist her, then repeated, softer, “No, pet, I’m fine. It’ll be healed by morning.” He could barely think with her hands on him, and he was afraid of where it might lead if she started undressing him. “Spike…” “Let it be, pet,” he murmured, even as he allowed her hands to slip from his grasp and she wrapped her arms around him. She pulled him into a tender embrace, placing feathery kisses on his ear, his temple, his cheekbone. He returned her affectionate ministrations, his lips tracing across her throat, stopping every few seconds to taste her, sucking lightly, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make her moan at his touch. He could smell the arousal dampening her thighs, and he felt his own body rise up to meet her. A subtle nudge and she was nestled in his lap, cushioning the growing evidence of his desire. Then, summoning up every ounce of willpower he possessed, Spike said, “Stop.” Buffy pulled back to look at him, a confused expression on her face. “Did you just say…?” “Stop,” he repeated, meeting her eyes, his own full of regret. “I – I don’t understand.” Every possible insecurity resurfaced in her, and she fought down memories of Angelus and Parker, and of Spike’s own taunts from the past. In a small voice, she asked, “Don’t you want me?” Spike closed his eyes. “Course I do, love.” He looked at her again tenderly, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from her face. “Never wanted anything more.” “Then – why…?” Her voice broke. He sighed, bracing himself for her reaction. “Because I don’t fancy waking up a big pile of dust just because you’ve changed your mind.” She pulled further away, so startled that she nearly fell off his lap and abruptly sat back down on the coffee table. “You don’t really think I’d… Spike!” “I don’t know, pet. This is all comin’ outta nowhere, and I – I don’t know what to make of it.” “It’s not nowhere, Spike! It’s – I’ve thought about this!” “Oh, you’ve thought about it?” He looked at her with a measure of skepticism, his head tilted slightly to the side. “You’ve thought about what you’re gonna say to your friends? To your Watcher?” “Well… no…” “You’ve thought about what happens if the chip stops working, and I can hurt humans again?” She shifted anxiously under his harsh scrutiny. “I…” “You’ve thought about the fact that I don’t have a soul? Thing is, Slayer… you’re gonna think about it. Tonight, tomorrow, next week – I dunno. And you’re gonna decide that you don’t want this, and it’ll be too late to take it back.” He stood and walked to the doorway, turning to face her and putting a hand out to steady himself on the doorframe. “And to be honest, Buffy, I don’t think I could stand it.” He blinked rapidly, and it took Buffy a moment in her stunned state to realize he was holding back tears. It broke her heart to know that she’d left him this gun shy, but she also knew she couldn’t force him. Slowly, she got up from the coffee table and approached him, her eyes never leaving his. Without words, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. His arms came around her in response, holding her close and turning his face into her hair. Then, with one last, light brush of his lips against hers, he pulled away. “I have to go, love.” “No, stay,” she murmured. “Buffy, I can’t…” His voice was pained. “In the other room. I promise we won’t… Just… don’t go. Please.”

Chapter #18 - This Side of the Morning

A/N: Okay, guys, last chapter. Thanks to all the readers who've come this far with me. And for those who might be compelled to come after me with pitchforks and flaming torches, the next story in the series is in the works right now, so never fear. :) Much thanks to Unbridled_Brunette for stepping up and betaing the last several chapters, and for keeping me on track, even when the reviews tempted me to write happy, fluffy things. There shall be no fluffy things here! *resolve face* Oh... one final thing. The title of this chapter comes from the Del Amitri song of the same name. It's a great song, and somewhat appropriate, and I highly recommend you listen to it here (it's not the best recording, but you get the idea) or at least check out the lyrics. ***** Chapter 18: This Side of the Morning Buffy moaned softly into Spike’s mouth. He was on top of her, his strong arms propping him up as he thrust his hard, muscled body against hers. He felt cool against her burning skin, and he filled her up as his length slid in and out of her. She ran her hands up his biceps and gripped his back as he pulled her toward a climax. “I love you, Buffy,” Spike whispered in her ear, as her muscles tightened around his cock. For a brief moment, everything stopped, hanging suspended in anticipation. Then, softly, came her reply, “I love you, too.” The look on Spike’s face was pure joy. She smiled at him, reaching up with one hand to caress the side of his face, pulling him down for a kiss, even as she slipped her other hand under her pillow and drew something out. Buffy jammed the stake upwards into Spike’s chest, feeling him seize up suddenly within her as the wood punctured his heart. It seemed to take an eternity, his grip tightening on her body, as though he could fight death by holding on, before his touch dissipated into nothing. She watched the expression on his face turn to shock and dismay, and finally betrayal, as he turned to dust above her. Buffy shot up out of bed, her heart racing. She glanced around, reassuring herself that she was alone in her bed – and had been all night. Spike was safe, asleep in the other bedroom. She replayed it again in her head, running her hands over her face and through her hair. She pulled her legs up to her chest, noting with alarm the stickiness of her thighs and the warm glow between them, and rested her forehead on her knees, willing her breathing and heartbeat to return to normal. Spike stared at the ceiling, one arm pillowed behind his head, still feeling the ghost of her warm hands on his body even after he woke up. Even though he didn’t need to breathe, the dream had left him panting hard. And that wasn’t the only thing left hard. Straining with need, he took himself in hand, finishing the job with long, quick strokes. He closed his eyes and called up the dream images of her in the throes of passion, writhing against him. Again, he heard her whisper those perfect words. He came with a groan, hips thrusting off the mattress to meet her invisible form, his spunk sullying the clean sheets. Once he’d recovered his composure somewhat, he swung his legs out from under the tangled sheet and slipped on his jeans to hide his nakedness. Buffy shuffled out into the hallway, coming face to face with Spike as he emerged from her mother’s bedroom. “Hi,” she said, wrapping her arms around her to cover herself. Suddenly, the tank top and boxer shorts she was wearing didn’t feel like enough clothing. She felt like Spike could see straight through her. God, could he tell? Could he tell she’d had a sex dream, in which he played a starring role? He could probably smell the evidence of her arousal, and his mind would fill in the details. The being all over him the night before might also give him a clue. Her cheeks colored with shame at getting off on a dream in which she’d staked him. That wasn’t what she wanted at all, and she felt the odd sensation of being betrayed by her subconscious. Spike scratched his head and looked at the floor to avoid her gaze. “Morning,” he replied, his voice hoarse. When he finally looked at her, he tried to keep his expression blank, but he could read the guilt and embarrassment on her face. He took a deep, deliberate breath to confirm his suspicion, and his eyes narrowed with realization. “Sleep well?” He tried to make it sound like an innocuous question. “Yeah.” Her breath caught in her throat. She looked at him, and his eyes were so intense, she could swear they’d turned a darker shade of blue. “You?” “Had a dream.” He watched the emotions flicker across her face. “Think you were there, love.” Buffy’s breathing became heavy again. “How did you…? Oh, God,” she muttered, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, she was staring at his bare, muscled chest. She forced her gaze up to his face. “I’m sorry.” Spike furrowed his brow. What was she apologizing for? If anything, he should be the one apologizing, for even considering – even in a dream… She’d never let it happen. “I – I would never…” she stammered, and Spike got the feeling she wasn’t talking about the sex. “I couldn’t… stake you.” “What?” For a moment, he thought she was referring to their conversation the night before. He’d felt guilty afterwards, for throwing that in her face. He didn’t really think she’d do it after all this time, but she’d still be pissed as hell at him if they went too fast. Either way, he hadn’t wanted to ruin things by doing what she wasn’t ready for. “The dream,” she said, looking down at her hands. “I – I staked you.” Spike’s mouth dropped open. Bloody hell. “No… Not in my…” He trailed off, and it suddenly hit Buffy. “What happened, Spike? How did it end?” He was looking at her now with a mixture of fascination and horror that frightened her. Spike reached out and caressed her cheek. “I turned you,” he said softly, with more than a trace of remorse. Buffy backed away from him, her thoughts reeling. “I – I…” She turned and stumbled into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. She leaned against the door, her head tilted back and her hands splayed out on the wood, trying desperately to catch her breath. Spike stood in the hallway, staring at the closed bathroom door, until Dawn peeked out of her room. “Spike!” His head jerked toward the sound of her voice. He self-consciously rubbed his hand over his chest as he realized it probably wasn’t proper for Dawn to see him shirtless. Oblivious to his startled state, Dawn grinned. “Did you spend the night again?” I knew it! the voice in her head cried. I knew if they just talked it over, they’d – “Yeah, Bit,” he replied absently. “Sis is in the loo.” In some kind of daze, he turned and went back in his room as Dawn squealed with joy. When Spike had showered and dressed, he made his way down to the kitchen. Buffy was already there, making enough pancakes to feed an army. He smiled at her nervous cooking and knew she was doing it to keep her mind off the dream. “You open a chain, Slayer? You the International House of something?” “Just… felt like… making pancakes, is all,” Buffy stammered, trying to shrug it off as ordinary. “Buffy,” Spike said, turning serious. “We need to talk.” “Oh, boy, is that an understatement.” Buffy turned off the stove and joined him at the breakfast bar with a mountain of pancakes on a plate. Spike took her in his arms and drew her close. He bent his head to press his lips against hers, but she pulled away from him. “That’s not talking.” “’S what you want, isn’t it? ’S what we both want.” He knew that now. He’d been inside her head, had felt her feelings as clear as his own while they made love in their dream world. He pressed himself against her so that she was pinned between his body and the island. She put her hands on his chest, but didn’t push him away. “What happened to taking it slow?” she asked. “What happened to Mr. Self-Control?” Went out the window as soon as you said you loved me, Spike thought. It didn’t matter that it was only in a dream. “I felt it, Buffy, and I know you did, too,” he said, his lips practically brushing her ear as he spoke in low tones. Just then, Dawn walked into the kitchen and startled them with a “Whoa!” Buffy and Spike immediately broke apart as the younger Summers headed to the refrigerator. “Hey, don’t let me stop you,” Dawn insisted from behind the refrigerator door. “Dawn,” Buffy started. “Just looking for a snack.” Spike cleared his throat. “There’s, um, pancakes, if you want.” He gestured to the plate on the counter. Dawn smiled. “You kids just keep doing what you’re doing,” she teased, going back out to the living room. As soon as she was out of sight, she pumped her fist in the air and said, “Yes!” under her breath. Back in the kitchen, Spike and Buffy were eyeing each other, now on opposite sides of the island. “Shouldn’t she be at school?” he asked, grasping for something, anything to break the tension. He picked anxiously at the bandage on his hand, worrying the fibers apart between his fingers. He’d tried to rewrap it himself after his shower, but it was sloppier than Buffy had done the night before. “In-service day. She has off. Between that and Thanksgiving, she barely goes to school in November.” She was babbling, filling the silence with meaningless words because she didn’t know how to restart the conversation they’d been having. With a shake of his head, Spike took the plunge. “Look, you can’t –” he started loudly, but then, remembering that Dawn was nearby, he lowered his voice. Best if the Niblet didn’t hear. “You can’t deny it, Buffy.” Buffy folded her arms protectively across her chest and avoided looking at him. “No, I can’t. But what about the rest of it, Spike?” Spike rolled his eyes. “Come on, pet.” “I killed you. And you made me a vampire.” Spike started towards Buffy, but she backed away. “You know I could never do that, love. And you wouldn’t, either.” Buffy just looked at him, as if to tell him that she wasn’t so confident. Spike’s face fell. “Buffy…” He shook his head bitterly. “Guess now would be the time to say I told you so.” “What?” “Didn’t I tell you, last night? You’d think on it, and you’d be sorry you ever…” His jaw suddenly tightened – holding back rage or tears, she wasn’t sure. “That’s not fair, Spike,” she said softly. “I’m the Slayer. My dreams aren’t just… They mean something.” “Not always.” His tone was that of a petulant child. “What if this is a warning? What if it’s trying to tell us that if we’re together, we’ll destroy each other?” “Or maybe it’s just our fears. It feels wrong, Slayer and a vampire. But God, Buffy, it felt so right…” He rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes, his hands on her shoulders. “I know. But I can’t do this, Spike. Not again.” She reached up and kissed his cheek, her lips lingering regretfully against his skin. Running her hand through his messy, unstyled hair in a gesture that seemed equal parts “goodbye” and “I’m sorry,” she pulled away from him and moved to the sink to clean up the dirty dishes. “Again,” Spike repeated darkly. Buffy closed her eyes briefly to calm herself. “Before, with Angel…” She waited for the inevitable snort of disgust. Spike didn’t disappoint. “It’s just so similar,” she tried to explain, without making him angry about the comparison. “We were having the same dreams. Memories of people he… And then we dreamed that we…” Spike snorted again. Was he doomed to live in the shadow of Angelus his entire existence? “He killed me,” Buffy finished, finally turning to face him again. “At the end of the dream.” Spike raised his eyebrows. “Was this before or after you gave him a happy?” “After,” she replied, ignoring his sarcasm. “After he came back.” Her expression darkened. “Spike, it was the First.” “The first what?” “The First Evil. The source of all evil. It was trying to convince Angel to lose his soul again and kill me. When he refused, it tried to get him to kill himself.” “And you think this First Evil business is trying to get us to kill each other or something?” asked Spike, with a large measure of skepticism. “I don’t know.” Buffy turned back to the sink. “I just know we can’t… we can’t let this…” We can’t let this go any further, she wanted to say, but the words didn’t seem to want to come out. It didn’t matter. He understood. Spike knew there was no use arguing with her – she was just as stubborn as he was. Buffy had made up her mind, and nothing would change it. “So that’s it, then?” he asked, willing his voice not to crack. He blinked back tears, determined not to let her see him cry. Absently, he returned to pulling at his bandaged wrist, where the edges of the gauze were now frayed from his nervous tic. “Just like that… you’re not even gonna try?” “I’ve tried, Spike!” “Not with me.” He lost it then, the broken sob escaping him before he could swallow it down. He spun around quickly, putting his back to her until he got himself back under control, his hands yanking at his unruly curls. Then, he turned back, ready to cut her with the harshest words he could muster, to make her feel as much like utter shit as she had done to him. But when he caught her gaze, her eyes shone, and her lower lip quivered, and everything broke inside of him all over again. “Christ, Buffy…” “I’m sorry.” She wouldn’t look at him. “Guess I’ll be going then,” he said, setting his jaw. He turned and opened the kitchen door, slamming it quickly shut when he realized it was daytime. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, cursing his stupidity. The fucking bint had him so turned around he’d nearly walked out in the sunshine. “Right. Not leaving just now.” Buffy realized the problem, and dried her hands on a dishtowel. “I – I’ll go. I have to go to work anyway,” and with that, she hurried out of the kitchen. In the living room, Dawn looked up as Buffy gathered her things and rushed out the front door. Puzzled, the younger girl peered at Spike, who stood watching her sister go. Her curiosity only grew when he marched up the stairs and locked himself in his room without saying a word. He’d known he was taking a risk, possibly giving up everything he’d ever wanted. There was Buffy, offering herself to him – and he knew it might be a one-chance-only deal. The hardest thing he’d ever done was walk away. But he knew, even through the shattered remains of his heart, that he’d done the right thing. It would have been even worse if he’d given in, let himself have one night with her, only to have it snatched away in the morning. That he wouldn't be able to bear. In the end, he'd been right to hold her back. Her morning-after skittishness proved as much. So, why did he feel so bloody wrong? Pacing around the bedroom like a caged animal, Spike remembered what he said to Buffy the night she died. I know you’ll never love me… and he’d meant it at the time. But then – when she came back, and things were so different – and she was different – he’d begun to hope. But he should have known better. She’d never allow herself to love him – even if she wanted to. Because he was a vampire, and because of Angel, and being the Slayer, and whatever this First Evil nonsense was – there were a million reasons why she shouldn’t love him. And really, what reason could he find why she should? Because he loved her? Inexplicably, paradoxically, utterly and unreservedly loved her – and a love like that didn’t deserve to go unrequited? No – it seemed the more intensely he loved, the more the object of his affection shied away from him. Cecily, who had been frightfully embarrassed by William’s lavish attention. Dru, whom he’d been devoted to for a century, despite her frequent dalliances and betrayals. She said she loved him, of course, but the Chaos demon in South America was hardly her first transgression. Just the things she'd done with Angelus alone made his stomach turn. But he’d never hesitated to welcome her into his arms again when she came back to him, no matter how badly she’d hurt him. Yet, she hypocritically tossed him aside the first time he showed any kind of attraction to another woman. Not just any woman, though. The Slayer. The one person in the world chosen to kill him. Become a vampire, you’ve got nothing to fear, ’cept for one girl. And that was the girl he’d fallen in love with. His obsession – how had he gone from wanting her dead to just wanting her? Was it the chip? The time he was forced to spend making nice with her and the Scoobies just to survive? He remembered telling her, Every Slayer has a death wish, and that was what would get her in the end. Part of you is desperate to know: what’s it like? Maybe this was his death wish. Flirting with death, pursuing a girl whose hand was always on her stake – that was what made it fun, right? Dancing around each other, never stopping, waiting for one of them to have their one good day. But there was more to it than that. It wasn’t about him. It was about her. He’d learned that well enough the day she died. She was everything to him – everything he was and everything he’d become was wrapped up in her. She was the reason he stayed in Sunnydale – a town which had witnessed some truly spectacular kickings of his ass, and which he’d be more than happy to leave behind if it weren’t for a certain resident who compelled his every bloody move. She was the reason he tried so hard to be good – and who ever thought of that? A vampire trying to be a better man. Well, he knew of one pouf who had tried it, but Spike was no Angel. No big epic story of redemption. He just loved a girl, and if that made him a fool, so be it. It didn’t matter if she never loved him back. He was a fool for love, and always would be. At least he was man enough to admit it. ***** the end