The words rang in Spike's head. Husband. Her husband.
She has a husband. She's married. My Buffy's married... But she's not mine anymore, is she? She's his.

He looked down at her sleeping form, and his eyes sought out what he'd missed before.

There it was, sitting on her left hand. The shining, gloating, fucking heart-breaking wedding ring.

"Didn't you know?" Her husband smirked.

Spike shrugged, acting as though the news didn't affect him.
"Well, me an' Buffy here haven't seen each other in a while. Got a bit of catchin’ up to do, yeah?”

The other man narrowed his eyes. “Just get the hell away from my wife, pal,” he sneered.

But Spike held his ground, raising his chin defiantly. “Don’t think so. The lady wants me to stay. An’ I never break promises to her.”

“Are you deaf? Get the fuck out.” Her husband’s jaw clenched, his fists were balled.

“Maybe I’m not the deaf one. I told you, Buffy wants me to stay.”

“Buffy needs rest, and somebody to look after her. And I’m here. So get out of here before I call security.”

A muscle in Spike’s jaw ticked before he slumped his shoulders in defeat. “Alright. Look, jus’ tell her I’ll back as soon as I can, right? An’ that I hope she feels better soon.”

He nodded, taking his seat beside Buffy – his wife.

With a sigh, Spike walked out of the room, and left the hospital, going into a café across the street. He pulled put his cellphone, and dialed.

“Hello? ...Yeah, it’s me. Listen… Yeah, yeah, I saw her. You never bloody told me it was that bad… Well, I didn’t know, did i? ... Look, I need those two addresses alright, got a couple of house calls to make… Hold on, I’ll get a pen…”

He signaled over the waitress. “Sorry, pet. Any chance I could borrow a pen and paper quickly. He flashed her a charming smile. She nodded, giggling.

“Sure thing. My name’s Lauren, by the way,” she said with a smile.

He nodded. “Spike. Thanks. Right, mate, those addresses?”

Spike scribbled down the two addresses, and repeated them back. “Alright, thanks. Talk to you later.” He hung up, and slipped the page into his pocket. He turned to the waitress, holding up the pen. “Thanks, Lauren.”

She grinned. “Any time.”

He stood up, and walked to the door, giving her a little salute.
Now, he had places to be, people to see.





Buffy woke slowly, her face pressed against a soft shirt. “Spike?” She mumbled, remembering that he’d been there as she’d fallen asleep. She opened her eyes with a smile. “Spike?”

“No, baby, it’s me,” her husband smiled, smoothing back her hair.

“Tom?” She frowned in confusion.

“Hey, Buff. How’re you feeling?”

“Good. I’m a little better, I guess. Still sore, but a little better. Was there somebody in here when you got here?” She asked, trying to sit up. He wrapped an arm around her, trying to help.

“A guy with brownish hair?” When she nodded, he shrugged. “Yeah, but he left. Didn’t say much. I told him he could stay until you woke up, but he just left.”

“He did? Did he say he’d be back?”

Tom gave another shrug. “I don’t think so. Who was he anyway?”

“Somebody from Sunnydale. You remember we told you about Spike? He died closing the Hellmouth? Well, that was him. He’s back, I guess. Whoa.”

“The vampire? That guy was a vampire?”

Buffy frowned as she thought back. “Um, actually, he’s alive. He’s human now. It’s crazy…”

“Wow, that’s weird. You want some water?”

“Sure. How was work?” She eased herself back into the pillows more comfortably.

He handed her a bottle of water. “Ah, same as usual. I’m literally surrounded by damn idiots. I don’t know how any thing gets done!”

Buffy smiled, and laid her hand on his. “Aw, poor Tom,” she laughed.

“Yeah, poor me, look at poor you. I was talking to Doctor Faulkner today, he says you should be finished in here by next week, but they want to make sure you’re all healed up first.”

She pulled a face. “I hate hospitals,” she grumbled.

Tom frowned. “Buffy, you know it’s for your own good. We’ve got to get you all better.”

“Yes, Giles,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“I mean it, Buff. You need to get better. There’s no two ways about it.”

“Alright, alright. Jeez, I was joking.” She huffed out a breath.

“Buffy, don’t be difficult, okay? I’m only looking out for you.” Tom sighed. “Look, I’ll go get the doctor, okay? We can see how well you’ve progressed. I’ll be back in a sec.”

He got up and left, leaving Buffy frowning at the sheets.

Her fingers absentmindedly stroked the shiny scars on the palm of her left hand, the seven-year-old burn one of her few remnants of Sunnydale.

Spike was alive…

He knocked quietly on the imposing oak door, suddenly realizing that he was nervous at the thought of seeing this man. As antagonistic as their relationship had been, Spike had always been confident, sure.

The door opened, and the man peered at him in confusion for a moment, before recognition lighted his face.

“Good lord,” he exclaimed, hurriedly pulling off his glasses to polish the lens on the hem of his shirt.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you too, Rupes.” The bravado was back. God, he had to see this man. As Buffy’s father-figure for years, surely he felt the same panic at her condition.

“Skipping past the assumption of your death, I think I’d rather like to focus on the fact that you’re standing in direct sunlight.”

Spike smirked. “Don’t need an invitation either.” He stepped past Giles, into the broad foyer. “Now that I’m a real boy.”

The former librarian stared at Spike for a moment, taking in the darker hair, the colour on his cheeks that had replaced the past pallor. “So it would seem.”

He gestured that Spike should go ahead, guiding him to the office. Spike entered the room where two leather armchairs, a sofa, and a low coffee table were the furnishings. The rest of the room was occupied with enormous bookcases that hid the walls from view. Running a finger along a shelve, Spike shook his head.

You could take the man out of the library…

“Once a librarian, always a librarian, eh, Rupert?”

To his surprise, the older man actually gave a chuckle of agreement. “Quite.” Excusing himself momentarily, he headed out to the kitchen to grab two glasses and a bottle of scotch.

In his absence, Spike turned his attention to the one shelf that was devoid of books.

It was instead, cluttered with various photograms. Smiling, Spike picked up one of Buffy, Willow, and Xander. Judging by their youthful looks and carefree smiles, he figured it had been taken sometime during their high school days.

“They were so young then,” the Watcher remarked, re-entering the room. Spike took the offered glass from Giles’ hand.

He raised it slightly. “Cheers.”

Taking a sip, and placing the photo back, he turned his attention to the rest of the photos.
There was Buffy and Dawn grinning on either side of an abashed Giles, who himself was wearing a bright purple party hat. Another of Giles holding a little girl in his arms. Anya outside the Magic Box, grinning infectiously. Dawn and Willow sitting on Xander, laughing.

His hand automatically reached for the one of Buffy sitting on a beach, smiling sadly as she looked out at the sea. His fingers ghosted over her image. Her eyes were dimmed, lines creased the corners slightly. She looked resigned, tired.

Giles cleared his throat. “Dawn took that about two years after the collapse of the Hellmouth, making it a year since your second death in L.A.”

Spike nodded, tracing the silver frame. “Why is she so sad here? God, it’s like when Red brought her back from the dead, or when you lot chucked her out that time…”

The Watcher observed his guest for a moment. “Spike, she was grieving a great deal at the time.”

Spike coloured. “Right, of course. Angel’d jus’ died, right.”

He sighed. “Well, yes, there was that. But she’d just found out that you had died for the second time. Spike, she hadn’t even known that you were alive.”

“Yeah, ‘m a right git, aren’t I?”

“Well, I won’t be the one to contradict you,” the older man commented dryly.

Spike gave a laugh at this.

Sitting himself down on one of the armchairs, Giles looked up at his visitor once more. “So, are you planning on telling me about how you became human, or shall I be dragging it out of you?”

With a shrug, Spike disregarded it. “Some prophecy. I’ll tell you about it later, Rupes.”

“Later? Am I to assume you will be staying around then?”

“As long as she wants me, I’m here.” There was no question between the two men as to who “she” was.

“Undoubtedly, you will be here for quite some time then,” Giles conceded quietly.

Spike made no answer to this.

“I’m also assuming that your feelings are unchanged? You are still in love with Buffy?”

“She’s married.”

“Did you know?”

“Not until he walked in on me lyin’ in the hospital bed with Buffy sleepin’ in my arms.”

Giles winced in sympathy. “That’s not entirely a good start. Tom can be quite…jealous.”

“Tom? That’s his name? Ugh, such a bloody wanker’s name, that is. Suits him, you know.”

His companion chuckled. “Quite.”

“You said he’s jealous?”

Giles made a non-committal gesture. “Just from what her friends have mentioned in passing. Although, I do recall some animosity between himself and Xander at first. He was quite territorial, possessive.”

Spike made a sound like a growl. “No right to be bloody possessive. She’s not his property!”

Nodding his agreement, the Watcher sighed. “Spike, I must ask you not to interfere. Clearly, Buffy loves this man, and wishes to spend the rest of her life with him. I’m sure we’re all going to be very happy about your return, but if you attempt to cause any discord in Buffy’s marriage, I will ask you to leave, Spike.”

Spike nodded. “Wouldn’t anyway. ‘I never would have banished him from her society as long as she desired his. The moment her regard ceased, I would have torn his heart out and drank his blood! But, till then… I would have died by inches before I touched a single hair on his head,” he quoted somberly. “You know, I read that book hundreds of times. The words suddenly seem to mean a lot more.”

Giles regarded Spike in silence, having been quietly surprised by his eloquence as he spoke. He’d long suspected that his companion was well-read, well-educated, also that he had read many of Giles’ own books in the brief time that they’d lived together. Spike, he was the one person that would always keep surprising them all.

He coughed quietly. “Spike. I do believe that I owe you a sincere apology about… well, all that time ago when I … well…”

Spike waved a hand. “It’s in the past, Watcher. I let it go a long time ago. You were doin’ what you thought was right for Buffy’s safety, an’ I ‘preciate it. Not the whole you tryin’ to kill me, mind. But ‘m glad she has you. Haven’t been around to look out for her myself.”

The old Watcher nodded, then extended his hand. “I am truly sorry that I disregarded you so, in the past. It’s clear that you were very much in love with Buffy, and I, unfortunately, realized this after you selflessly gave your life on the Hellmouth seven years ago. I now know that you would never have hurt Buffy, or anyone that she cared for. Shall we have a fresh start, William?”

Spike glanced at the proffered hand and took it, shaking the man’s hand, then letting go. Cracking a grin, he punched Giles’ arm lightly.

“Bloody hell, you can apologize. I was always so sure that the stick up your arse wouldn’t let you,” he joked.

Giles sighed wearily. “And there it is… Welcome back, Spike.”

“ ‘s good to be back, I s’pose. But, I’d better be off. Some other people I need to see, mend fences an’ all that.”

“Dawn?” The Watcher asked shrewdly.

“One an’ only.” Setting down his empty glass, Spike walked to the door with Giles following behind.

“It was good to see you, Rupes. An’ it’s hard to believe you’re actually offerin’ me your scotch rather than me nickin’ it. Got old lookin’ though, you did,” he teased.

Rolling his eyes, a habit gleaned from the Summers women, Giles opened the front door.
“You have Dawn’s address?”

With a nod, the younger man stepped outside. He raised his hand in a wave, and set of down the street. Giles watched him go, shaking his head in wonder.

Suddenly, it occurred to him that Spike had not answered his question about whether he loved Buffy or not. This didn’t bode well for his Slayer… Or her tosser of a husband.