Disclaimer: All the characters and recognizable dialog are Joss Whedon's, not mine. 

Reviews are most, most welcome. 

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Chapter 5 – Constants and Variables
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Everyone froze for a moment at Buffy’s pronouncement. Dawn found her voice first and said, “Um, isn’t she, like, long gone? Where do we even start to look for her?”
 
“We don’t!” Willow cried. “I mean, we can’t bring her to Sunnydale! She’s dangerous. Crazy dangerous. She killed Kendra, remember?”
 
“But Spike needs her!” Dawn argued, jumping off the bed to face Willow. “What are we supposed to do? Just let him die?”
 
“Dawn, honey, we’re not going to let Spike die,” Tara soothed, trying to calm things back down.
 
“Don’t you think you ought to consult the Spike in question?” Spike put in, but his voice was tired from the long session of weighing possible poisons and he could barely be heard over the women.
 
“Everyone stop!” Buffy yelled, and her forceful tone cut through the noise. The others turned to look at Buffy, whose expression was unreadable. “Just… stop, okay? I need to think about this. There has to be a way to solve this, but I need to think.”
 
“But we’re not even completely sure this is the right poison,” Willow protested.
 
“Willow, all the symptoms fit, and Spike killed one of these Trok’fav demons. I think we can assume we’ve got the right poison,” Tara said quietly. She didn’t know much about Drusilla, but what she had heard gave her chills. However, Willow’s fears weren’t particularly helping the situation at present.
 
“Please,” Buffy begged, her voice softening slightly. “Can we just step back for a second? We know what the problem is now. But we’re not going to find a solution this way.”
 
Willow’s furrowed brow unknotted slightly. “I’m sorry. I just… freaked. I mean, Drusilla equals some pretty unpleasant memories, you know?”
 
“Ladies,” Spike said, his voice low and scratchy. “Can I please talk with the Slayer alone for a moment?”
 
“Of course,” Tara said, ever the voice of reason. “Come on. Let’s take these books upstairs.” Willow looked concerned, and Dawn glanced nervously at Spike, but Tara repeated, “Come on. Give them some space,” and the others followed her up the stairs.
 
When the door shut behind them Spike said, “Sit down, pet.” Buffy obeyed, arms crossed, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “Can’t ask you to go after Dru for me. Red’s right – she is dangerous. Mad as all get out and with the sight to boot. Won’t have you risking yourself on my behalf.”
 
“But there’s no alternative!” Buffy protested.
 
“Yes there is,” Spike said his voice soft but determined. “You have to let me go.”
 
“No,” Buffy said, shaking her head. “I can’t do that.”
 
“Buffy, please,” Spike pleaded. “I can’t live like this, half surviving on your blood forever.”
 
Buffy stood up and faced away from him, trying to keep under control. But even without seeing her face, Spike could hear the threatening sobs in her voice. “Don’t ask me to watch you die. Not when there’s something that can save you.”
 
Spike shook his head slowly in disbelief. After regarding her for a few moments he said, “I don’t get it. You and I fight each other, and shag each other, and you beat the crap out of me and dump me, and now I’m suddenly irreplaceable? You made it pretty bloody clear that you didn’t want anything more to do with me.”
 
“Spike…” she began, trying to get her mouth to form some sort of coherent sentence.
 
“I won’t have your pity, Slayer,” he growled. “Not going to be a charity case. Not going to have you heal me up to assuage your conscience then kick me to the curb again when you’re done.”
 
“It’s not that,” Buffy said, still addressing the wall with her back to Spike.
 
“Then what?” Spike croaked, his frustration evident even in his weakened state.
 
Buffy took a deep breath and spoke, staring at the ground. “You’re… you’re a constant in my life.”
 
“What the hell does that mean?” Spike wondered.
 
Buffy turned and sat down, twisting her hands while she explained. “If you had left town, after we… after I broke things off, I would have missed you. But I would know you were out there, somewhere. You always come back. I know that if I ever really, really needed you you’d come back. But if you were dead…” Tears started escaping from Buffy’s eyes, and Spike’s jaw dropped open at the sight. “If you were gone, forever, the only other constant thing in my life besides Dawn would be gone and… I can’t deal with that.”
 
“You’ve got your friends and your watcher,” Spike said. “You don’t need me hanging about.”
 
Buffy shook her head. “They used to be constants too,” she said miserably. “But Xander just went off and did something I’d never expect him to do, and Willow’s all unpredictable lately, and Giles left me.” She lifted her head and drilled her green eyes straight into Spike’s astonished ones. “But you’re always here. Whether we’re fighting or working together or… other stuff, you’re here. And I’m not ready to live without that.”
 
Spike was stunned. “What are you getting at love?” he asked when his jaw started working again.
 
“I don’t know, okay?” Buffy said, getting up to pace back and forth, trying to put her confusion into words. Finally she stopped and barely meeting his eyes said, “I… I owe you. A lot. You were there when I needed someone to listen to. When I first came back, I mean. I was crazy and depressed, and you were the only one who could deal. It… it was my fault things went so wrong.”
 
“Buffy,” Spike interrupted. “Takes two to tango, yeah? Neither of us are saints, although you’re a hell of a lot closer than I am. You don’t owe me a thing.”
 
“Please,” Buffy said quietly. “I can’t explain it, alright? I don’t know what I feel, and I don’t know where this is all going to lead, but if I don’t try to make this right, I’m just going to lose it, okay? Please. Just let me try to make this right.”
 
Spike waged an internal war between his pride, his ever present love for her, and his fear of this situation he found himself in. But as always, he caved under the gaze of those green eyes and he sighed. “Don’t fret, Slayer. I’m in your hands, as ever. Do what you will.”
 
Buffy came over and laid her hand on his cheek. “I’m not going to let you down, Spike.” They both hoped that her statement would prove true in the end.
 
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“But Tara, you don’t know what she was like!” Willow, Dawn, and Tara had gone upstairs and proceeded to get into an argument about the whole situation. Dawn was ready to charge off in search of Drusilla, on her own if necessary. Willow thought the whole idea of trying to go after the psychotic vampiress was completely ludicrous. Tara was just trying to understand the situation and walk the line between the two of them, and was having a hard time of it.
 
“Willow, just calm down okay?” Tara was saying. She broke off when she saw Buffy come upstairs and close the door behind her. “Buffy? Is everything alright?” she asked.
 
“Yeah,” she said. “He’s sleeping again.” She ran her hand through her hair, thinking as she moved into the living room.
 
“Buffy, tell them! We’ve got to help him!” Dawn cried.
 
“I’ve been trying to tell her…” Willow began.
 
“Stop it! Both of you!” Buffy yelled. Fixing them both with a stern glare she said, “Look. We are not going to run off blindly after little Miss Psychovamp.” When Dawn started to protest she added, “But we are not going to let Spike die either.”
 
“I don’t want to be the voice of doom here,” Willow said. “But you’re talking about trying to find one vampire, somewhere in the entire world, who just happens to be somewhat psychic and who has the ability to control people’s minds! Where do you even begin?” Willow threw her hands up, completely mystified by the whole idea of actively seeking out the notorious Drusilla.
 
“I have to try,” Buffy said. “I know the risks, but I have to try.” She stared out the window and noticed that the sun had nearly set. “I’m going out to patrol. I think better when I’m killing things.” She grabbed her jacket and stakes and left the three bewildered girls behind her as she headed out into the night.
 
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“What the hell is it? ‘Buy one fledgling, get two free’ night?” Buffy muttered as she brushed herself off. For whatever reason, the vamps were out in droves, with fledglings popping up left and right. She had had a bit of a tussle with three at once at one point that had left her with a bruise on her cheek and a rip in her jeans, and she silently bemoaned the loss of more clothes that she couldn’t afford to replace. As she left the last cemetery and started on the long walk home, she thought, I’ve got vamps coming out of my freaking ears, but not the one I actually want.
 
She stared running through what she knew about Drusilla. Crazy. Absolutely batshit, talking to invisible people crazy. Wiry. Strong, but not incredibly so. Psychic, but rambled so much that no one could figure out what the hell she was being psychic about. That thrall thing. Giles had described how she had made him think he was talking to Jenny, while Angelus was trying to torture information out of him.
 
Buffy slowed in her walk. Angel. He might know where she was. He’s got all sorts of connections. She wondered if Angel’s blood would work on Spike. Sire, grandsire, is there that much difference? It was probably worth a shot, although she doubted that Angel would donate blood for Spike. Even if he did, Spike would probably sooner die than accept help from Angel. I’d have to trick Spike into drinking it, if I could get Angel to cooperate. She sincerely doubted that cooperation would be forthcoming, but at least she could give him a call. He could give her information, if nothing else. Quickening her pace, she made her way back home to make a phone call.
 
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Buffy looked at the phone in her hand and at the clock on the wall. Ten o’clock. Definitely not too late to call a creature of the night. She had come home from patrol to find that Tara had gone home, Dawn was fussing over Spike, and Willow was worrying. She had sent Dawn to bed, told Willow to chill once more, checked in on Spike, who had dozed off again, and then retired to the living room to stare at the phone. How is Angel going to react? That’s the million dollar question. She used to feel like she knew Angel so well. But when they had met up after her return from the grave they had been like two strangers. She had still been so shell-shocked, and his mind had seemed occupied by concerns that had nothing to do with her or Sunnydale. He wasn’t a known quantity anymore, and she dreaded having to explain this situation to him. After a few more minutes of psyching herself up, she took a deep breath, screwed up her courage, and dialed.
 
The phone rang at Fred’s elbow as she stared at the computer, her owlish eyes utterly focused on her task. Research had become her bailiwick after Wesley’s departure, and she had a tendency to get lost in whatever subject was on the docket for the day. Barely taking her eyes from the screen she reached for the phone. “Angel Investigations, how can we help you?” she answered automatically.
 
Buffy didn’t recognize the voice on the other end of the phone. “Um, hi,” she said nervously. “I was looking for Angel.”
 
Fred frowned. Angel was in his office, ostensibly attending to some paperwork, but probably still beating himself up over the loss of his son. “May I ask who’s calling?” Fred asked, deciding that she was not going to disturb Angel unless it was really necessary.
 
“This is Buffy, from Sunnydale.”
 
Fred recognized the name, and realized that this was probably one of those calls she should pass on. “Hold on, I’ll see if he’s available.” Fred knocked on Angel’s office door. “Angel? Buffy’s calling from Sunnydale,” she called through the closed door.
 
Angel had been staring into space, remembering details of his son’s baby face, his hair, his tiny fists. He shook himself at the sound of the knock, and after hearing who was on the phone said, “I’ll take it in here.” Sitting up and rubbing his face, he picked up the phone and punched the blinking light. “Hello? Buffy?”
 
“Hey, Angel,” she replied. “Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
 
“Yeah,” he said, the weariness evident in his voice. “Things have been incredibly crazy around here.”
 
“Same here,” Buffy said. “Anyhow, I’m sorry to bother you, but I need some help.”
 
“What sort of help?” Angel asked. Truthfully, it was taking all of his strength to manage his own problems these days, and he wasn’t sure if he had any reserves to devote to Buffy’s problems. But since he couldn’t find the energy to explain his current crisis to her, he settled in to listen to what she needed.
 
Buffy took a deep breath. “I need to find Drusilla,” she said quickly.
 
Angel sat up suddenly, his full attention finally brought to bear. “Drusilla? I haven’t seen or heard from her in a year or so. Why do you want to find her?”
 
Buffy found herself reluctant to explain exactly why, so she answered, “I just… need to find her. And it’s kind of urgent.”
 
“Buffy, I don’t have the time or energy for games here,” Angel said crossly. “What the hell could you possibly need Drusilla for?”
 
Buffy clenched the phone and said, “I need her to help Spike.” She closed her eyes and waited for the explosion.
 
It was not long in coming. “Spike?” Angel growled. “What business do you have with him?”
 
“He’s been helping me, Angel,” Buffy explained. “He took care of my sister all last summer when I was… gone. He’s been someone I can talk to and depend on since I came back. Someone poisoned him with watais root – he’s wasting away. He needs the blood of his sire to cure him.”
 
“So let me get this straight,” Angel said in an increasingly irritated voice. “You want me to help you find Drusilla to cure Spike?”
 
“That’s the idea,” Buffy said, equally irritated. “Is this something that you can do with all your Investigator resources?”
 
“No,” Angel responded firmly.
 
“No, you have no idea where she is, or no you can’t find her with your resources or…?”
 
“No, I am not going to help you do something incredibly stupid that might get you killed,” Angel barked. “Whatever game Spike is playing, he’s dangerous. He may be pretending to be your ally because he’s got that chip in his head, but the second he doesn’t need you he’ll turn on you. And you of all people should know how dangerous Drusilla is. No way am I going to deal with having your death on my conscience because I helped you find her.”
 
“Angel, Spike is not faking it, and he’s not using me. If anything I’ve been using him to help me cope since I got back. I’ve been a total bitch to him sometimes, and he still helped me. I owe it to him to help him out,” Buffy replied.
 
“He’s evil, through and through,” Angel growled. “I should know. I helped make him what he is.”
 
“You haven’t seen him in a while, Angel,” Buffy began.
 
“Not since he tried to torture me to death, no,” Angel interrupted. “So pardon me if I don’t have warm fuzzy feelings toward him.”
 
“Angel,” said Buffy, trying to remain patient. “Right now, he’s dying, okay? He weighs about a hundred pounds and he’s fading away by inches.”
 
“Good riddance then,” Angel muttered.
 
“I need him, Angel,” Buffy snapped. “I don’t have anyone else around here who isn’t up to their eyeballs in their own problems, and I can’t handle it all on my own. He’s a… he’s a friend. I can’t just let a friend die without trying to help.”
 
“Forget it, Buffy,” Angel said with finality. “With anything else I’d be glad to help you, but trying to find Drusilla is fucking suicidal, and relying on Spike is just a recipe for disaster. I’m not going to be a party to your self-destruction.”
 
“And once again, Angel knows all, and knows what’s best for Buffy,” she said sarcastically. “I forgot. You’re the expert on what I need. That’s why you ditched me like everyone else.”
 
“You know that’s not fair,” Angel yelled.
 
Buffy lost her temper and gave up. “Whatever. Thanks for your nonexistent help. Have a good life.” With that, Buffy punched the off button angrily and tossed the phone to the other end of the couch. Fuck him. So tired of the ‘I know what’s best’ shit. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands, trying to think of what her next move should be. When she didn’t come up with any brilliant idea after a few minutes, she went to the kitchen to find something to eat and drink. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but she forced herself to heat up a can of soup, to keep her strength up and help replenish the blood she was losing keeping Spike alive. She stared into space while she ate, trying to come up with a solution. She finished the entire bowl of soup while hardly registering the taste, then went downstairs to see what Spike was up to.
 
Spike had woken up a few minutes after Buffy had gone upstairs. He found his hearing was almost back at full strength, but he hadn’t paid much attention until he heard Buffy say ‘He’s been helping me, Angel’. His eyes snapped open at that point and he found himself straining to hear Buffy’s end of the conversation. He wished she had told him she was going to call his grandsire – he would have been able to save her the trouble. Angel wouldn’t lift a finger to help me if I was being dipped in holy water in front of him. In fact, he’d probably sell tickets and bloody popcorn. It gave him a little lift to hear Buffy defending him to Angel, and the way she dismissed him at the end made him positively grin. You tell him, Slayer. GIt always thinks he knows sodding everything. He realized that this didn’t get him any closer to a solution to his problem, but anything that pissed Angel off was by definition a good thing.
 
He took stock of his situation while he listened to Buffy knocking things about in the kitchen. His vision and hearing were definitely improved. He was able to get his gameface on, although it still felt like it took as much effort as lifting two hundred pounds. He could stay awake for longer, and talk longer before exhaustion overcame him. But when he tried to get up, he found he could barely manage to raise his head from the pillow. His hands shook so badly that he had to struggle to grasp the covers to readjust them, and rolling over was out of the question. Fucking useless pile of bones I turned out to be, he grumbled silently. He found himself wanting to get up and destroy something, and was beyond frustrated at his inability to do so. A few minutes later the door at the top of the stairs opened and Buffy descended. “Evening, Slayer. How was patrol?”
 
“Long,” Buffy said, plopping in the chair next to him. “Every fledgling on the planet had to rise in Sunnydale tonight. I know it’s a hellmouth but, sheesh.”
 
“Don’t suppose a conversation with the great Poof made for a satisfying cap to the evening either,” Spike observed.
 
“Heard that did you?” Buffy said ruefully. “I guess you can guess how that turned out.”
 
“Could have told you he’d be of no help,” Spike said. “He’s never going to see me as anything but evidence of his Angelus years, no matter how many times I help you White Hats. He’s got a soul, so that makes him judge and jury of the rest of us vamps. Wanker.”
 
Buffy smirked a bit. “Don’t hold back, Spike. Tell us how you really feel.”
 
“We’ll be here all night if I do,” Spike said. “And you look ready to drop any moment.”
 
“Planning to, right after you have some dinner,” she said.
 
Spike frowned a bit. “Don’t suppose I can convince you that I don’t need you to do this, can I?”
 
“Spike, it’s been a long, aggravating day. Don’t make me pound you to get you to feed, okay?” Buffy said in an exasperated voice.
 
“Alright pet. No need to break my nose again,” Spike conceded. He forced his fangs out and gently sank them into her proffered wrist. She closed her eyes as the perplexing, erotic sensation that she was becoming all too familiar with spread through her body. Spike closed his eyes as well, savoring the rich, heady taste of this woman, this Slayer. All blood had unique flavors, but nothing matched the pure liquid power in a Slayer. His demon could have drank all night, but he forced himself to stop before her heart started to slow down. He opened his eyes as he pulled away, noticing the ecstatic expression on her face. Once more he closed the wound tenderly and said, “Thank you, love.”
 
Buffy opened her eyes and returned his gaze, saying nothing for a minute. She pulled her arm away gently, her lips parted as she struggled to keep her composure. “Why… why does that feel so good?” she asked quietly. “Does it always feel like that?”
 
Spike managed a slight shrug. “It can. It’s what keeps the vampire whores in business. It’s like a kiss, in a way. A kiss can be brutal and painful, or not. Bites are the same way. Don’t want to hurt you.”
 
“You didn’t,” Buffy said. She stood up slowly, tired and confused by what she felt. “I… I need to go to bed. We’ll work on all this some more tomorrow, okay?”
 
“Yeah,” Spike said. “Thanks for trying. No matter what happens, I appreciate the effort.”
 
“We’ll figure this out somehow,” Buffy assured him. “Good night, Spike.”
 
“Night, Slayer,” he replied. She gave him one more searching look before she went upstairs. She barely managed to get undressed and into bed before exhaustion claimed her and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

TBC