Willow had never seen anything like it. True, Tara was better at reading auras. And, she could remember Tara telling her that Spike had always looked different, spectrally speaking, than other vampires, but she never expected this.

It was wonderful to behold.

I wish Buffy could see this!

Willow had to smile. Who would have thought that this could happen? If someone had told her five years ago that “William the Bloody” would do this, she would have told them they were crazy. A vampire that slaughtered half of Europe, and tried to plunge the world into darkness and mayhem on a regular basis, would go to the other side of the earth and have the soul that had been lost over a century before- returned? Yeah, tell me another one.

Okay. How’s this? Then, that vampire’s will to survive would be so strong that, when faced with a threat to its existence, it would weave the two essences together so intricately that one could not be without the other?

It really does look pretty.

Spike’s blue and William’s white interwoven and touching like an old patchwork quilt. Or maybe not a quilt; maybe more of a crocheted blanket made of the multi-colored thread. The kind where half of the stitch is blue and half is white? The black that had almost overwhelmed Spike’s aura had now become a kind of backlight of charcoal grey. It was diminished. Willow wasn’t sure why, but thought that it might be due to the fact that she had heard Buffy threaten to do this “baddie” some serious hurt if it dared to show its ugly face again.

The surprising softness of the Ukesolrill’s grey made the vision of ethereal synergy that she was witnessing all the more striking.

Willow even felt her breath catch in her chest.

Gosh, it really is pretty.

Oh, I am * such* a girl.

Yeah, I would have told them they were crazy. But, that was before the “friendly” vampire turned out to be not-so-friendly. And before I lost control of the magic and killed my best friend.

Now I know that anything is possible.

She opened her eyes and saw the concerned look on Giles’s face. It was a look she expected to see on Dawn’s face as well. Instead she saw a smile, not unlike the one she knew she was wearing herself, judging by the small ache that pulled at the muscles of her face, “Don’t worry, Giles,” she said, winking at Dawn, “I’m not rescinding the protection spell, but I think she’ll be okay, for a while. At least long enough for you and I to read more about this prophecy. I think I may want to call Miss Chalmers, see what she can tell us. Do you know if she’s been released from the hospital yet?”

“You’re sure that’s wise?” Giles asked, his brow furrowed by concern, “We don’t know if he will slip under the Ukesolrill’s influence again.”

Willow sighed, “Giles, you’re right to be concerned. But, if you had seen what I just did, you’d be more concerned about Spike’s possible embarrassment than you would any lingering homicidal tendencies he might have. Believe me.”

Giles shook his head, clearly perplexed by what Willow had said, “Embarrassment?”

“…Well, not Spike,” Willow shrugged, glancing over at Dawn, whose eyes glinted with mirth as she began to understand what she was getting at, she then looked down at the floor and her cheeks turned a pale shade of scarlet, “…because, you know, vampire. But, poor William…He’d be mortified.”

“Check,” Dawn said, turning to Giles, her cheeks flushed with color, as a rush of empathy for the Victorian she knew Spike had been, came over her, “Giles, can I raid your wardrobe?”

“What…? Why?”

Dawn couldn’t help herself. She launched herself at the man she and her sister thought of as a father, and pulled him into a gleeful hug. As she did, she whispered into his ear, “Giles, do I need to draw you a map?”

The look of shock that crossed his face told her that he had finally grasped the tenor of the conversation, “Good,” she smiled, “I was worried there, for a minute.”
*************************************************

Buffy was lost. Kneeling on the floor of this tiny little room, she was lost in the shimmering eyes that had been her only solace when she’d been ripped out of Heaven.

He was staring at her like she was some sort of mythical thing, something he didn’t deserve. But how could he do that, when she was the one that was unworthy?

The stayed in silence for what stretched on to forever; or what seemed like forever, until Buffy found the courage to speak, “Spike? Are you all right?”

The sound of her voice shot through him like a jolt of electricity that sent fire down to the tips of his fingers and toes, “If…” his breath shuddered, causing his whole body to shake, almost uncontrollably, “If…” he closed his eyes and placed his nose at the pulse point at her neck, breathing in her scent, “Oh, I understand Dru now,” he murmured, “I know why she preferred this to the real world. I never want to go back there. It hurts too much,” his voice was ragged with pain and tears, “I can have you here. Here, away from the pain. I-I know it’s not real. But, I need to stay here. Away from the pain; away from him. Buffy, will you let me stay here- with you?”

Buffy couldn’t believe her ears. Is he actually asking my * permission *? Oh, God, what did he do to you? This is real, Spike. How do I make you realize that? “Spike,” she whispered as she tangled her fingers in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, “that man can never hurt you again. He’s dead,” she turned her lips into his ear, and brushed the words lightly over his skin; saying them until he believed, she, and they, was real, “He’s dead, and you’re here, with me. You’re not in that place anymore, Spike. Dawnie’s here too, Spike. And Willow, and Giles.”

Just as suddenly as it began, the shuddering subsided, and Spike became still. He pulled back from her slightly, his face full of confusion, studying her; searching for something, “Nibblet’s here too?”

Buffy nodded, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes, “Uh huh.”

Spike’s eyes widened, as if he were questioning what he was seeing, “Buffy?”

She smiled a wet smile and nodded, sighing, “Uh huh.”

The joy Buffy saw flash in his eyes was quickly overtaken by fear, “The Watcher,” he said tightly, “He’s dead?”

Buffy nodded again.

Spike’s eyes became hooded, and his voice shook with the torrent of emotions that were tearing through his body. Fear and happiness, sadness and rage, all warred in him at once. I’ve lost my family. Oh, God! I’m sorry, Rachel! I’m so…so sorry!

He was so overcome with sorrow, that the name scarcely became sound, “Rupert…?”

The look in Spike’s eyes made Buffy realize her mistake, and, in a rush of words, she sought to comfort him, “Oh, no!” she shook her head, wiping the tears that had moistened his face with the pads of her thumbs, “not Giles! Travers!” she smiled.

Spike gave a shuddering sigh and touched her forehead with his, “You might’ve said that before, Love. You could stop a bloke’s heart.”

The tiny smirk she saw on his face made Buffy want to squeal with delight, “I’m not done yet,” she said slyly.

Spike’s eyebrow rose, as he waited for her to continue, “Then, by all means,” he chuckled, nuzzling his nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss, “do go on.”

“There’s this prophecy, that I guess you’re a big part of, that Travers wanted to stop. That’s why he kidnapped you…”

Spike was becoming so lost in her scent that he found it difficult to focus on what she was saying, “MmmHmm,” he murmured, trying desperately to clear his head, even as he was drowning in her.

“…And when he found out what Travers did…when he found you, in that cell, he went all, ‘Grr, argh’ and shot Travers. It was weird.”

Spike started and pulled back, looking at Buffy incredulously, “Giles… shot someone? Because of…what they’d done…to me?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well,” Spike smirked, “Who’d have thought? Mighty wide violent streak, there,” he mused, “must run in the family,” he chuckled. Looking down at the floor between them, Spike noticed something he hadn’t before, and it stirred something very old, and very proper, within him. He looked up at Buffy, and said quietly, touching lightly up and down her arms, “So Love… there’s a prophecy is there? Tell me about it. Then,” he looked at her with pleading eyes, “what say you do what you can about finding me a pair of knickers?”
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