"I stick my neck out for nobody." -- Rick Blaine, "Casablanca"

*************

The black and white map of Africa with a cursive "The End" played on Spike's gorgeous new television set, whose console filled a whole wall in his crypt.

"Always ends the same," the vampire said, with a note of contempt in his voice as he removed the DVD and placed it back into the case. But the girl sitting in the chair watching it with him was mesmerized.

"Oh, Spike, it was so sad and so romantic," said Dawn, with a sigh.

"Romantic!" exclaimed Spike, his voice pitching an octave. "I saw this bloody film when it first came out in '42. It wasn't romantic then, and it hasn't mellowed in age. The man has two perfectly good passes to get him and the girl he loves out of that hellhole. Does he do it? Noooo. He gives his to the self-righteous prig."

"Spike," said Dawn, rolling her eyes. "Rick made the noble choice."

"Oh, yeah, real noble," Spike said mockingly. "He ends up walking into the sunset with the little French Nancy-boy while this Lazlo bloke gets his girl. And the worst part is that Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes won't even know what to do with a girl like that. He's too busy savin' the world to give her what she needs!" Then, he added, "And besides, did you see his hair? Musta used a whole tube o' Bryl Cream on it every day."

Spike started to reach for a cigarette in his coat pocket and then thought better of it. Dawn had been lecturing him lately about the dangers of secondhand smoke, and he didn't want to do anything to alienate his best friend -- his only real friend -- in the world.

"I'd better be getting home," Dawn said. "Angel is taking Buffy and me to a really fancy restaurant in town. I'm going to get dressed up and stay out late. It will be SO cool." The girl was so overjoyed at the return of her sister and the chance to do something fun that she didn't consider the effect that her words might have on her movie buddy.

Spike tried not to wince at the news.

"What's playing tomorrow?" Dawn asked. Spike, deep in thought, didn't answer her. "Spike? Tomorrow?"

"Oh," he finally answered with a note of distraction in his voice. "King Kong."

"Which one -- Fay Wray or Jessica Lange?"

"Fay Wray, of course," he said as he turned his full attention back to Dawn.

"We only play the classics in this crypt! You bringin' more popcorn?"

Dawn looked at him brightly. "Of course."

"And don't go stingy on the butter," he said with mock sternness. "Not like I have to worry about hardenin' of the arteries or anythin', you know," and then he pounded his chest over his non-beating heart and winked at her.

"Right. Gotcha," she said as she turned to leave. Then, she turned back and looked at him as she said, "You know why you don't 'get' the movie's ending

Spike? You don't understand romantic tragedies!" And then she was off.

Spike reached into his coat for a flask and took a swig of liquid courage as he stared into oblivion. "No, Nibblet. I wouldn't understand a romantic tragedy."

**********

It had now been five days since the miracle happened. Angel came to Sunnydale with implausible news. In some texts he and his gang had picked up in another dimension, Wesley, a former watcher, had discovered what he thought might be a way to bring Buffy back from the dead. The witch Willow, with Dawn's assistance, did some kind of incantation mojo, and Presto-Chango, to everyone's amazement, it worked!

Angel! It really figured. Didn't it? When they were both terrorizing Europe in the old days, Spike always had to work twice as hard to be half as evil. Then, after Angel got his soul, he had the opportunity to be ‘good’ handed on a platter, while Spike had to struggle just to be ‘not bad’.

Now, Angel once again was Buffy's hero. Spike, to his shame, had given in to his sorrow and hadn't even tried to bring her back.

The chipped vampire heard all the news about Buffy's recovery secondhand through Dawn. Of course he had wanted to immediately rush see the Slayer, but he couldn't imagine that she would want to see him. He'd let her down, failed to protect Dawn from Doc that horrible night nearly five months ago -- and after he gave his word on it. Better that he stayed out of her way, at least at first.

But tonight, he had finally decided he had to face her and to tell her something. He just hoped that Angel wasn't around when he did it.

The vampire stood among the trees in the woods behind the Summers' home. He chain-smoked and practiced what he would say. He wished that Joyce were still here. Perhaps she would invite him in for some cocoa or tea. Truth be told, the woman made terrible tea. Like most Yanks, she thought nuking a cup of water in the microwave and then dipping a teabag up and down a few times constituted a good cuppa.

Still, it wasn't about tea, anyhow. It was the way Joyce treated him -- decent, like a person. Never like the inhuman demon he was. Dawn was like that, too. And sometimes, just sometimes, Spike almost felt like Buffy was coming around. But then he'd do something incredibly stupid to remind her he was a monster wearing a man's face, and what little hope he had to begin with was again lost.

As he was finishing off another cigarette, a little before 11, he heard the two of them giggling -- the two Summers girls, Dawn and Buffy. Dawn was wearing a cute little flowered dress. Buffy had on a tight white top and even tighter black leather pants. Spike scowled when he thought of Angel looking at Buffy in those pants. The two girls were walking down the sidewalk arm in arm, without a care.

Spike's face softened. He realized as he saw Buffy like that -- alive and joyous -- that he wouldn't begrudge her the happiness, even if her heart always belonged to Angel. It was beating again, and that was enough. He smiled in spite of himself.

As Buffy got her house keys out to the back door and unlocked it, Spike ground his cigarette butt into the ground and stepped from the woods. "Buffy?" he said tentatively. He expected an angry retort. Instead, she very softly spoke his name, "Spike." And they stood there, three or four yards apart, staring at each other.

Dawn looked from one to the other and decided this was her cue to leave. "Well, 'night all." She gave Buffy a peck on the cheek and Spike a little wave by wiggling her fingers as she headed into the house.

"'Night Dawn. I'll be in in a couple," Buffy said in a distracted way to her sister while still looking at Spike. Finally, she broke off the gaze by sitting down on the porch step, and patting a place beside her for Spike to come sit.

He was a bit hesitant, unsure how to react to what seemed like a welcoming gesture, but then walked over, tucked his black leather duster under him and took his place. Being that close to her was nearly overwhelming. He ached to bring her tight to him and to tell her how his world shattered when she died. How much he regretted once telling her he would have a "good day" when she was gone. How much he hated himself for failing her after she finally put some trust in him.

But he sat stiffly and did nothing and said none of these things.

"You look good, Buffy," Spike said finally, stumbling for the appropriate words. But then, what could be the appropriate words for a person who had recently returned from the dead? Not exactly something Hallmark makes a greeting card for, now is it?

Buffy nodded her head as she looked straight ahead. "I feel good, too. Better than I have in a long time. Physically clear. Emotionally clear. It's amazing how being dead for a while can give you perspective," she said with perhaps a touch of sadness in her easy laugh. She turned to look at him and said in an almost-hurt-sounding voice, "I thought you'd come to visit me before now. This was the first day I was up to full speed, or else I would have come to see you."

Spike braced himself. Now it would come. The blame. The disappointment in his failure to live up to his promise. His head dropped.

Then, two words came out of Buffy's mouth that he never expected. "Thank you."

Spike's own mouth hung open as he turned his head to look at her, not quite sure that what he had heard could possibly have been what she meant.

"What you did for Dawn these past few months has been above and beyond," Buffy said. "She told me about all the movies and how you worked so hard to keep her focused on life and not my death. And how you kept her from doing anything stupid."

"Well, it was as much for me as her," Spike answered in all honesty. "And I do love that kid... like she was my own flesh and blood."

Buffy smiled at that admission. Then, she knitted her brows in mock displeasure. "I don't think, though, I'm going to ask how you got a new home entertainment center into your crypt... or where it came from."

For a brief moment, Spike got his old smirk of self-satisfaction back in remembering how he pulled off that sweet feat.

"Uh-huh, I thought so," said Buffy with a smirk of her own and then she took her knee and knocked it into Spike's in a playful kind of way.

That startled the blond vampire, but then he decided to take care of business.

"Right. Gettin' back to the reason I came over. Look, if you and Dawn want to go back to LA with Angel, don't worry about things here. You can leave with a clear conscience. I can handle the hometown baddies." He squinted his eyes, took a breath and said, "What I mean is that I've been patrolling since... well, since you weren't here any more in May."

"I know I'm a grotesque mockery of the natural order of things," he continued. "Not tryin' to put on airs that I'm any better 'an the locals. But I know what I felt, Buffy, when I saw you lyin' there that morning. If dustin' my own kind keeps people alive, keeps the people who loves them from feelin so bloody miserable, I'll do it!

With that, Spike stood up. He'd said his piece and was ready to go. That's when Buffy, who was now all frowny at him, finally spoke.

"Spike, sit down," she said sternly.

"Wha'?"

She pointed to the place on the step where he'd been sitting. He decided not to argue and did what he was told.

"Spike, three points." Buffy pulled at her little finger. "Point Number One. Dawn and I are NOT going with Angel to LA or anywhere." She pulled at the next finger. "Point Number Two. "You're not a grotesque... whatever you said." She pulled at the middle finger. "Point Number Three. Thank you for patrolling. It's of the good."

Spike tried to let her words sink in. Then, he said, "Could we go back to Point Number One?"

Buffy shook her head at him. "What made you think we'd be going to LA with Angel?"

"Dunno," he said as he looked down at his folded hands on his lap. "Guess on account that you are still in love wi' him, and he saved you and all that."

Buffy stroked the back Spike's hand with the palm of her own for a couple of seconds. "I am VERY grateful to Angel for finding a way to bring me back. He seems to think it was part of grand plan from The Powers That Be. Me? I tend to believe it was more like plain dumb luck. Angel puts a lot more faith in The Powers than I do. I met one of their little messenger boys once. Not impressed!"

She then hugged herself and looked up to the stars. "Of course, I'll always love Angel. He's a part of me."

Spike closed his eyes and wished he were anywhere -- even being tortured again by Glory -- anywhere but here, having to hear this.

"I love him, Spike... like I love Xander... and Giles," Buffy continued. "But I'm not in love with him anymore. I haven't been for a long time." Her voice trailed off as Spike reopened his eyes and studied her face.

"Tonight, Dawn and I had dinner with him and then he went back to LA," Buffy said. "You know, he's got someone new in his life now. Fred." She shrugged.

Spike's blue eyes widened. "Fred? Angel really a poof? Hmmmm... I always thought he was a little too neat."

"No," said Buffy with a laugh. "Fred's a girl. She seems to be what Angel needs."

"How do you feel about that?" Spike asked. "Angel bein' with someone else and all."

Buffy looked at him. "Yeah, I was weirded when he first told me. I mean, the 16-year-old girl still inside of me has a big enough ego to believe that Angel would pine away for her forever. But let's get real. That soul mates stuff is for romance novels, and who reads those anymore?" Buffy said the last part with a snort.

Spike was thankful at that particular moment that it was a physical impossibility for a vampire to blush with embarrassment.

"So, anyhow, the sitch is that Dawn and I are staying right here," Buffy said. "Everyone we care the most about... is in Sunnydale."

At that moment, her eyes again locked with Spike's. They stared deeply into one another. And even though it technically was unnecessary for him to actually breath, every time Spike inhaled and exhaled, it was in perfect time with her rhythm.

"I missed you, Buffy. A lot," he said, finally breaking the silence.

"I know," she responded, with a slight hint of a smile on her lips, which were pink and glistening from the gloss she was wearing. They were so inviting...

"Right, then. Well, I'd probably better get goin'," Spike said, slapping his legs as he stood up and broke off the gaze. He didn't want to push his luck nor his welcome. "'Night, Buffy," he said as he turned to go.

That's when he heard, "Wait, Spike!" The vampire looked back over his shoulder. "Would you like to come in for a few minutes?" Buffy asked from the steps. "I could... make us a couple of cups of tea."

Spike let the words sink in, turned completely around, cocked his head slightly, then smiled broadly and showed his dimples, which the Slayer realized she never had noticed before. "Yeah, I've got a bit o' time. It's been awhile since I had a good cuppa." He bounded up the steps so that he could get to the door before her and hold it open for her to walk through.

Buffy twirled some of her blonde locks around her left index finger as she turned toward the door. "You know. I used to like coffee a lot. That was my whole world -- caffeinated beverage-wise. "But lately," she said, her body lightly brushing his as she walked over the threshold, "I've found I'm developing a taste for tea."

THE END