Buffy decided that it would be best if they took her mom’s old SUV to the Bronze instead of walking at they usually did. Spike was on the verge of freaking out as it was over the simple idea of even going out at all; she didn’t think he needed the added freak-out factor that an after-dark walk on the Hellmouth always seemed to turn out to be. She didn’t want to cause him any unnecessary emotional turmoil, or to place him in a dangerous situation while he was clearly still unable – at least psychologically – to defend himself.

Dawn rushed on ahead of them out to the car. Maybe she was unaware of the great impact that this whole thing was having on her friend. Or maybe she simply recognized that Buffy was the one he needed to help him deal with this particular challenge.

Without thinking about it, though very much aware of his rising tension, the panic that was slowly threatening to consume him, she took his hand as they neared the front door, wanting to be as supportive as she could in every way that she could.

Her unspoken acknowledgement of the anxiety he was feeling made him feel the freedom to show it. He drew a deep, shaky breath, only physically unnecessary, before giving her a look of pleading uncertainty.

“Buffy,” he whispered. “I – I can’t…”

She stopped, turning toward him, and taking his other hand in hers, looking him in the eyes with her own full of a gentle concern. “Spike,” she replied in a quiet, firm voice, “You’re gonna be fine.” She paused, searching his fearful blue eyes to see if her words were having any effect.

“You aren’t a prisoner anymore,” Buffy reminded him, slowly and clearly, her voice soft with compassion and affection. “You have every right to go out there and – and *live*, Baby. Okay?”

Looking down, unable to meet her eyes through his overwhelming insecurity and shame, yet wanting desperately to be able to trust her reassurances, he nodded, swallowing hard, but couldn’t say a word.

She reached a hand up to tenderly touch his cheek, drawing his eyes back up to hers, and she could see in them that he was simply sick with fear at the very thought of facing the world from which he had been isolated for so long.

He saw the understanding of what he was feeling in her eyes, and all it did was make him feel more ashamed of his pathetic weakness, his fear over something so ordinary, that he wouldn’t have given a second thought six months ago. “I – I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling utterly inadequate and unworthy of the love of a powerful, self-assured woman like her.

Somehow, his gaze found the floor again.

And somehow, her lips found his, kissing him slowly, thoroughly, taking her time to show him that his fears were unfounded, that she still found him extremely desirable. After a few moments, she felt his tentative response to her kiss, and knew that she was getting through to him.

When they finally parted, he said softly, “I know it’s ridiculous, love – that it’s stupid for me to be such a bloody ponce about all this…”

Buffy shook her head firmly as she interrupted, “No. No, it’s totally normal after everything you’ve been through, Spike. You haven’t been outside in five months, Honey. It’s gonna feel a little weird.” She paused, then amended with a little grimace, “A *lot* weird, actually. But don’t try and blame yourself for this, like everything else. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Logically speaking, her words made sense; he knew she was right. He was just having a lot of trouble making his heart see it that way. His fragile, traitorous heart still felt that he had everything to be ashamed of.

When he didn’t respond, Buffy went on in a softer voice, “I know this isn’t easy. But I’m here for you…to help you through it. I want you to know that I’m going to make sure that you’re perfectly safe tonight. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

He let out a quiet little huff of self-derision, shaking his head with a little self-directed sneer. “You’re the one who ought to have your bloody life back, pet,” he pointed out apologetically. “You’ve been cooped up in this house for the past two weeks, doing nothing but looking after *me*. You shouldn’t have to feel like you’ve got to be attached to my bloody hip all night, love, on your first night out in so long.”

He hated to think that her evening would be spoiled because she felt that she had to spend all her attention on protecting him.

Buffy smiled slowly, leaning up to kiss him again. “That’s okay,” she murmured into his ear as she ended the kiss. “More than okay. Since I was pretty much planning on the hip-joiny thing, either way, whether we went out or not.”

She kissed him again before meeting his eyes and going on in a passionate voice, the depth of emotion in her eyes nearly taking his breath away. “I have every intention of spending *every moment* of this night with you. Not because I have to; because there’s no one else I’d rather spend it with.”

Her honest affection, her obvious desire for him, warmed him and soothed the raging self-hatred and disgust he was still battling, battled every day of his life. Pulling away to face the door, still holding her hand, though much more tightly than he realized he was doing, he stepped deliberately out the door onto the porch.

With the first breath of the crisp night air, the taste and smell of it, the familiar yet oddly foreign surroundings of Buffy’s neighborhood, a wealth of memories came flooding back to him. Many, many evenings he had spent outside her house, watching for any glimpse of her…and also watching over her. Back then, he had felt an intense desire to protect her from any harm. He had been prepared…no, *eager*…to take on any threat that attempted to hurt her.

What had happened to that reckless, itching-for-a-fight person that he had been? As he stood there for a moment, still, just taking it all in, breathing in the clean, sweet smell of the air around him, he thought that maybe…just maybe…he was still there, deep down.

And little by little, he was regaining the courage to come out of the dark, quiet refuge into which he had been driven.

Buffy’s hand squeezing his gently drew him back to the moment, and he smiled bravely at her.

“It’s a beautiful night,” she murmured, her intense green eyes dancing with delight as she watched the small victory take place right before them. The simple words held a depth of meaning beyond the surface. She looked so happy, and he realized she was right. Though it seemed so pitifully small, this was actually an important step for him.

He felt his heart surge with pride and happiness when he realized how very pleased she was with the progress he had made. Looking into her eyes, seeing how she was trembling with thrilled excitement, he was once again breathless, wanting nothing more than to hold her in his arms.

He moved forward to put his hands on her arms in a subtlely possessive way that he wouldn’t have dared weeks ago, meeting her gaze and matching its intensity as he replied in a low, husky voice, “Yes, love. Beautiful.”

Now it was Buffy’s turn to be breathless as she realized the double meaning of his words, and saw the obvious yearning in his expression. Without even realizing she was doing it, she leaned in closer, her eyes never leaving his.

Just then, the back seat passenger window rolled down and Dawn’s face appeared, with an exagerratedly bored expression, resting her chin in her hand.

“Come on, you guys. The single teenage girl with no life needs a little excitement of her own. You guys can make out at the Bronze; no one’ll notice. Let’s go!” she urged them, but she was smiling.

Buffy and Spike exchanged a look, both of them remembering many times when they had done just that; she was right, no one had noticed, even when things had gone much further than “making out”. The spell broken, but not uncomfortably, they got into the van, Buffy in the driver’s seat, and headed off for an evening of fun.


Dawn found her excitement, all right, much to Spike’s dismay. They had been at the Bronze for about an hour, and after a couple of drinks and time to see that there was no obvious danger, he could feel himself starting to relax. He watched the people around him, laughing and talking and dancing, and remembered when he had felt that easy and comfortable and carefree.

And he was surprised to find that instead of feeling depressed at the contrast with his current state, he began to think that it really didn’t look so difficult.

Perhaps he could find that place again.

Buffy returned from getting them drinks, placing them on the table and sitting down. She leaned back against him, relaxing as she watched the band, and he automatically put his arm around her, feeling the familiar warmth and comfortable snugness of the way her body fit so well against his.

Perhaps he had found that place already…he just needed to get used to it…figure out how to live there again.

And suddenly, his mind had been drawn from his introspection when he noticed Dawn, finding the excitement she had craved out on the dance floor. She had found some boy she knew, a surly teenager, probably from her school, who radiated attitude and that particular danger that came with irresponsible teenage male hormones.

“Who is that?” he frowned as he asked Buffy, his voice a little sharp.

She looked up at him in surprise, her mouth turning up in a teasing smile. “I think his name is Ryan. She goes to school with him.” She paused before she added, “Overprotective much?”

“Not a bit, love,” he muttered. “I know what that little prat’s got on his bloody mind, and I know what’s helpin’ to put it there. Where in the bleedin’ hell did she learn to dance like that?”

Buffy laughed, amused by his protective anger. “Probably the same place I did when I was her age,” she guessed with a little shrug, turning back to look at her sister. As she watched her, Dawn moved her body in a way that seemed to come instinctively at a certain point during adolescence, a slow smirk forming on her lips as she looked the boy she was dancing with, aware of the effect she was having on him.

Suddenly, Buffy wasn’t so sure that Spike was being so overprotective after all. “Okay, maybe that’s enough dancing,” she said slowly, frowning.

“Told you,” Spike muttered, his own smirk beginning at her admission of his right-ness, in spite of his concern for Dawn.

He allowed his searing gaze to focus on Dawn until he finally caught her eye across the crowded room. She immediately saw the look in his eyes, and he watched in irritation as she rolled her eyes, her smile widening in amusement.

However, after a few moments, she excused herself easily from her dance partner and made her way with grace and confidence across the room toward her sister and her boyfriend, well aware of the effect she had on the many boys who turned their heads to look at her as she passed them.

Spike wanted to personally drain every last one of them.

She reached them and joined them at the table, smiling and waving at the boy she had just left on the dance floor, who was still looking across the room and trying to catch her attention.

“We so should do this more often,” she declared, a gleeful note in her voice.

“We so should not,” Buffy argued emphatically, her eyebrows raised. “I have to live in this town and see a lot of these people all the time. I have a reputation to maintain.” There was a teasing, sarcastic note in her voice, but her eyes showed that not all of her disapproval was a joke.

Dawn turned to look at her, pretending to be surprised by the severe expression on her sister’s face. “What?” she demanded, her hands raised in a gesture of mock innocence. “I was just dancing!”

“Is that what you call that, pet?” Spike snorted. “I call it shaggin’ upright’s what I call it. Not rightly appropriate for a public place, Bit.” He frowned, realizing what he’d just said, and added quickly and emphatically, “Or in your case, *ever*!”

Buffy glanced at him without meaning to, and their eyes met in a moment of memory. Buffy blushed bright red and looked away, and he coughed suddenly, unable to look at Dawn for a moment, as if she would somehow see there the secret recollection he and Buffy were sharing at the moment – the recollection of the “vertical shagging” they had quite literally done in this very place.

Dawn rolled her eyes, completely unaware. “I’m gonna go get a drink,” she announced, shaking her head, dismissing their concern with a wave of her hand as she walked away.

At this point they were both too distracted by their memories to say another word to her.

*Don’t think about that. That was dirty and wrong,* Buffy reminded herself, not looking at either of them for a moment. *Not because it was Spike…just because it was wrong.*

That had happened at a very bad time in both of their lives, she thought. They shouldn’t have done it. It had been cheap and disrespectful to each other and irresponsible and….

So. Incredibly. Hot.

True, it had been wrong, and she would never consider doing something so tacky and obscene now. Especially not now. But that didn’t mean that it hadn’t felt good…the memory of Spike’s hands…holding her…touching her…his need for her obvious in every slow, enticing motion…

*Oh, God, I want him so bad!* she realized desperately.

He chanced a glance at her through uncertain eyes, wondering what she was thinking. He had seen in her eyes that she was remembering exactly what he was. He wondered how it made her feel now, to think about it, to think of the way they had hurt each other…the way he had hurt her, tried to make her see herself as the same dark, wicked thing as he had been.

And he wondered if she could see in his eyes how the memory made him desire her. He hoped she couldn’t. It would surely sicken and disgust her to think that anything about that terrible time in their lives, when they had spent so much time using and degrading each other, could awaken in him such a need.

But it had not all been dark and ugly. He remembered the times when her touch had been soft, gentle…yearning and desperate for him, admitting it in her body though she never would have in her words.

And now she told him with her words…but had yet to tell him with her body.

Suddenly, she was standing in front of him, taking him by the hands and pulling him to his feet. He looked up from the floor where his attention had been focused as his thoughts had circled around, to see once again her dazzling emerald eyes, dark with need and sparkling with anticipation.

Her mouth turned up at the corner in the beginnings of an enticing smile as she spoke, her voice low and sultry.

“Wanna dance?”