UNTIL THE END OF THE WORLD

CHAPTER ONE:

“Spike!”

Buffy looked up at her sister's cry just in time to see something black fall past her at what appeared to be terminal velocity. The dark, fast-moving meteor impacted the ground below with a sickening and bone shattering crunch which unsettled Buffy's stomach. But the Slayer couldn't focus on that now, she could only watch it fly past her and push her horror down. Her only priority was her sister; Dawn was in trouble, she had to get to Dawn. She had to get to Dawn and stop the ritual. Buffy kept running up the rickety, wobbling stairs at a frantic pace. It seemed to take an eternity, but she finally reached the top of the unstable, windswept tower. Looking around, fists raised and ready to strike, Buffy found herself face-to-face with Dawn, who was alone and apparently unharmed.

Dawn's eyes were wild when they met her sister's. Her words came out in a rush, her voice shrill, terrified and breathless. “Buffy! I’m OK, he did it!! Spike did it!! There was a demon, some old guy who was gonna cut me, but Spike stopped him. They fought, and Spike threw him off, but the guy caught his wrist and pulled him off too and-”

That was as far as Dawn got in her explanation of what happened. In that instant Buffy had enfolded her in an ardent hug, and nearly squeezed all the breath out of the already breathless younger Summers girl.

“Buffy...need...to...breathe.”

Buffy relaxed her hold on her sister and gave her a watery smile. “Sorry, but for a minute there I thought...”

“I know, but I’m OK. Now, do you think you could get me off this thing, I’m not really liking it up here.”

Buffy reached for the knife she kept in her boot and cut the ties holding Dawn prisoner. With Buffy holding onto Dawns arm tightly, they made their way down the tower at a careful and cautious pace. About half-way down the creaking, listing tower Buffy heard footsteps on the stairs below them. Fast, heavy footsteps, coming up toward them. Buffy's relief suddenly morphed back into fear and panic, her heart lurching in her chest.

“Dawnie, stay behind me.” The Slayer pressed Dawn back, and then jumped down several steps to meet the oncoming foe alone. She automatically assumed a fighting stance when her feet touched down on the next landing, poised and ready to strike.

At least until she saw her 'opponent.'

An out-of-breath Giles came puffing into view. He stopped, nearly collapsing from relief and exhaustion, when greeted by the sight of the sisters on the stairs in front of him.

“Hey, Giles, Dawn's OK. You could've saved yourself the heart attack by running up here.”

“No..no...I'm...fine...I...just...need to....die...for...a...moment.”

Dawn was snickering at the watcher's condition and comments as she descended the steps behind Buffy. At least she was until a sudden, horrifying thought struck her.

“Spike! Oh, God, Buffy I have to find him!!” Dawn exclaimed as she pushed past the pair of them and continued down the stairs. “He's got to be hurt after that fall.”

Buffy rushed past Giles to keep up with Dawn, who was moving down the stairs with determination.

Giles's brow furrowed. “Spike? Buffy, what happened up there?” Giles's breath had returned and he was able able to keep pace with the pair as they descended, led by Dawn with himself now bringing up the rear.

“Turns out Spike saved Dawn, and the world in the process,” she replied with a little humour in her tone at the astonished look on Giles's face.

“Are you sure, Buffy? I mean, this is Spike we're talking abou-” Giles stopped abruptly when he suddenly came face-to-face with a very angry-looking Dawn, who had obviously overheard his comments.

“YOU weren't up there Giles! Neither was Buffy!” Dawn paused at this and gave her sister a quick, smiling glance over her shoulder. She reached for Buffy's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The younger Summers girl hoped it communicated that she understood Buffy had gotten there as soon as she could.

Buffy gave Dawn a grateful smile and a small nod, silently accepting her sister's support.Dawn turned her angry glare back to the stunned watcher.

“It wasn't you or Buffy or Xander or Willow or anyone else who saved me up there it was Spike!! And he got hurt in the process, so I’m going to find him and help him.

“Instead of standing there bad mouthing him, why don't you do something useful, like round every one up so we can go home!

“And enough with the rude comments!! I get it OK! You don't like Spike! I’m not asking you to, but can't you at least be civil to him? I mean, how much of a sacrifice would it be? Given the choice, I can't see Spike wanting to talk to you anyway, not after the way you've treated him!”

Buffy's stomach gave a lurch as Dawn whirled away from the watcher and continued down the stairs to look for her vampire friend. It wasn't just Giles that had treated Spike horribly. Buffy had to admit that she herself fell into that category alongside her watcher and Xander.

'Will he forgive me? Should he forgive me? Do I want him to forgive me?' All those thoughts rattled round Buffy's head as she followed her sister, finally reaching ground level and nearly running into her back.

Dawn stood looking straight up at the tower as if trying to work out Spike's positioning when he fell, and therefore deduce where he would have been when he landed.

“You try that way,” Dawn instructed Buffy, her voice firm, brooking no argument, “I'll try this way.” With that she was off, looking for her friend as Buffy gave a small sigh and began walking in her designated direction.

Buffy had barely gotten thirty feet when a shout came from Dawn's direction. “Buffy!” The shout was panicked so Buffy ran, thinking obviously Dawn had found Spike and it wasn't good. Even with that thought, Buffy wasn't prepared for the carnage that met her as she came around a concrete pillar.

Spike lay face down in a quite sizeable impact crater surrounded by broken brick, twisted metal and shattered concrete.

Buffy ran to her sister and put an arm round her shoulders. “He'll be OK. As long as he's not dust, he'll be OK.”

Buffy knelt down and slowly rolled Spike over, but what greeted her almost made her gag as bile rose to the back of her throat. It seemed that Doc, the demon Spike had been fighting, had taken the brunt of the impact. The demon's body and head were considerably thinner than they should have been. It looked as though, under compression, Doc's head had split across the crown and his brains had been forced out in a streak of sticky, blue ooze. It was not a pleasant sight, but then neither was Spike.

Buffy looked him over with a critical eye, trying to gauge and catalogue his injuries.

As the vampire landed, it appeared that his right side had impacted first, as this was where the most damage was. The right side of his head had a large gash in it, the white of his skull clearly visible through the blood, his right cheekbone looked broken, and his right collar bone was poking through the skin, obviously fractured. Looking down further, it was clear that his right shoulder was dislocated and his right elbow was at an angle that wasn't correct. From under his t-shirt, that had ridden up slightly, Buffy could see wicked amounts of bruising already, indicating possible internal damage and also the probability of broken or shattered ribs. His hips were at an angle that suggested he'd perhaps broken his pelvis, and his right leg was clearly dislocated at the hip and broken at the knee. In short...not good.

“Oh, goddess.”

Buffy turned at the breathy whisper to see Willow and Tara. Tara was holding Dawn to her in a comforting hug while Willow gazed down at Spike with concern as she walked towards Buffy.

Willow laid a hand on the Slayer's shoulder, kneeling beside her. “He'll be OK, right?” she asked tentatively, before looking at Dawn and Tara. “I mean: He'll be OK,” she added more forcefully, trying to dispel Dawn's concerns.

A small scoff signaled Xander's arrival. “What's the big deal? So the bleached wonder got a little bruised, let's dump him at his crypt and celebra-”

SMACK.

Buffy turned just in time to see Xander complete his fall to the ground, clutching his cheek. Next to him, Dawn was hopping on the spot, rubbing the knuckles of her right hand.

“What the hell was that for!?” Xander protested. “All I said was...”

“I heard what you said, you jerk! So help me, if you say it again I promise you will never have children by the time I’m done, you...you...uugghh!”

Dawn turned and looked at her sister with hard eyes. In a deadly calm and clear voice she said “I'm taking Spike home and I don't want him there.” Dawn gestured to Xander without looking at him. “I mean it, Buffy. Xander doesn't come into the house while Spike is there or I swear I’ll hit him again.

“And if you...” Dawn continued, turning her head toward the dismayed watcher, who had been attracted by Dawn's initial shout to Buffy, “...can't keep your comments to yourself in front of me, then you can join Xander on the unwanted list. Am I clear?”

At Giles's hasty agreement the angry, young girl turned a disgusted look to Xander who was still sprawled out on the ground looking confused and shocked. “You obviously don't get it, but I’m so angry at the moment that I don't think I could explain it to you without losing my temper again, so talk to Giles once we've gone.”

With that she turned her back on Xander, Anya, who had remained quiet throughout the exchange, and Giles. Calming slightly, Dawn spoke only to Buffy and the pair of witches. “You guys gonna help me with Spike?”

Nods and tentative smiles of agreement from the three other women assured Dawn that Spike would be taken care of.

 

 

CHAPTER TWO:

Back at home later that night, Buffy made her way down the stairs to greet the newly arrived Scoobies, which also included Xander. The brunette obviously hadn't taken Dawn's warning seriously as he was standing just inside the front door with Anya.

“What are you doing here, Xander?” she asked warningly. “Wasn't Dawn clear when she said you weren't welcome here? I’m really not sure I can save you from her if she decides to make good on her promise.”

“C'mon, Buff, she wouldn't seriously kick me out over Spike, I mean...” Xander trailed off at the sight over Buffy's shoulder. A sight that included Dawn and Joyce, who had just come out of the kitchen. The two tallest Summers women were standing side by side, both scowling, clearly unhappy to see him. Dawn, holding a mug of blood, gave Xander a death-glare, pushed past the group and headed upstairs to Joyce's room without a word to anyone. She knew she could trust her mother and sister in this situation to get rid of Xander, and hopefully, in the process, stick up for Spike as well.

“So, Xander,” Joyce began icily. “It seems that you don't believe that you would not be welcome here after what you said about Spike and the way you've treated him recently. Was that because it was Dawn that told you this?... Perhaps I could rectify this misplaced assumption for you?...After getting the whole story about what happened tonight, it seems very clear to me that I still have not just one, but both my daughters alive and well thanks to Spike and his efforts. Yet you believe that that doesn't mean anything, and should be ignored, am I correct?”

Xander was looking like a schoolboy sent to the headmaster's office. He fidgeted uncomfortably under Joyce's glare, his hands stuffed into his pockets, struggling to find a reply that would not land him in any deeper trouble.

“Allow me the privilege of answering my own question for you. Spike saved Dawn tonight, and in the process probably Buffy as well. Considering that Buffy told me she would've had to have most likely sacrificed herself to close the portal to Glory's dimension, if it had been opened. Not to mention he stopped an apocalypse, saving the whole world, and he did this without anyone asking him to. He did it, because he cares about Dawn and, I hope, myself...”

Joyce paused and looked at her eldest daughter, her gaze softened with grateful relief and affection.

Buffy gave Joyce a sad smile and a nod, reassuring her and urging her mom to continue.

Joyce turned back to Xander, her expression hardening again, and continued, “And because he loves Buffy.”

Out of reflex, Xander opened his mouth to protest, but Anya elbowed him in the ribs, and he quickly snapped his lips closed again.

“Now, what Buffy chooses to do about this situation is up to her.” Joyce gave her daughter a stern look at this point that was clearly meant to convey that the two of them would discuss this, just not now, and continued on. “But, what I will not allow is one of her so-called friends to continue believing he has the right to dictate what goes on in her life in any fashion.

“Xander, I know you think you're doing the right thing and you mean well but, in all honesty, I wouldn't let you tell Buffy what to have for breakfast or what to wear to the Bronze. What makes you think that I’m going to stand here and allow you to tell her who she can and can't be friends with or who she should show gratitude to when they deserve it?

“Spike saved my daughters' lives, what does he have to do for you to admit that maybe, just maybe he doesn't intend to kill us all? Does he have to dust? Is that it? Because at the moment, Xander, I have to say that I much prefer the way Spike is acting, all 'demonic and soulless'...” Joyce made air quotes around those descriptions, which drew a grin from Buffy and the pair of witches that were standing off to the side watching the proceedings “...to the way you're acting. Now, was that clear enough for you to understand, Xander LaVelle Harris?”

At Xander's sheepish nod, Joyce pressed on for the coup de grace. “Good, now that's settled. Please leave as I’m rather busy attending to Spike and I have a feeling that most of what I've said is going to take a while to sink in, considering the thickness of your skull. Until then, I don't really want you here around my daughters, or Spike for that matter, so goodnight, Xander.

“Anya, please don't think that any of what was just said applies to you, dear, I would be very happy for you to stay, but I understand if you can't.” Joyce gave a slight nod towards Xander, who was looking decidedly dejected as he headed out the front door.

“Thank you, Mrs. Summers, but it is late and I have to open the shop in the morning. I wouldn't want to be groggy and make a mistake counting change or ringing up sales. I think it would be best if we left. Goodnight.” With that the pair headed out the front door, leaving a stunned silence in their wake as everyone digested what had happened.

Buffy enveloped her mother in a hug; it was all she could do not to cry after hearing such a spirited defence of Spike and herself. “You were awesome, Mom.”

“Hardly, sweetheart, he just needed to know some things, and I was going to tell him. I really don't like the way he tries to bully you into agreeing with him and his points of view all the time.”

Buffy released her mom and turned to the remaining Scoobs.

Giles was the first to speak up, his British sensibilities clearly uncomfortable at the displays of emotion going on around him. “Yes, well, as Anya said, it is late and I should really be going so, I think I shall call it an evening. But, before I do, for the record: well done Buffy, Willow. You both performed admirably tonight, and I shall be sure to tell Spike the same when he wakes, though I’m certain he'll never let me live it down.

“While it comes to mind, perhaps when Spike is well enough, a small celebration would be in order? We did save the world, and we have Tara back whole and hearty, an occasion I think befits a small get-together, don't you agree?”

“I think that's an excellent idea, Rupert, you can certainly count myself, Buffy and Dawn in, yes?” Joyce raised an eyebrow in question at Buffy and received a smile and a nod by way of reply, to which Tara and Willow both added enthusiastic responses.

“Well, that settles it then,” Giles agreed. “And on that note, I shall depart. Good night all.” With a smile, a wave, and a restrained hug to Buffy and, surprisingly, one to Tara as well, Giles was gone, leaving the girls to fuss over the fate of Spike.

Joyce and Buffy went upstairs to check on Spike, who was still unconscious on Joyce's bed. Dawn was curled up asleep next to him. He had been put there at Joyce's insistence as there was better lighting to clean and dress his injuries. They had discussed using the cot down in the basement, but the larger bed afforded Buffy plenty of space to set Spike's many broken bones. Despite being safe from sunlight in the basement, the cot would have made tending to him even more difficult for her.

Spike taking Joyce's bed did require some other changes to be made in the sleeping arrangements. Buffy would be sleeping in Dawn's room for the night, while Joyce would take Buffy's room. Dawn was supposed to sleep on the couch, but she looked so peaceful that neither Joyce nor Buffy wanted to wake her, and both were sure Dawn would be safe where she was.

Satisfied that there was nothing further to be done upstairs, the pair returned to the living room. Willow and Tara were deep in conversation, which both the Summers women caught the end of.

“I'll tell her what I think and let her make up her mind, that's all anyone can do. From there, it's her decision. I've given her my opinion, and she'll know that I support her no matter what.” Tara finished speaking to Willow just as Buffy came into the living room from the foyer.

“Tell me what?” Buffy wondered, looking at the witches, who were seated close together on the couch.

Willow looked like a deer caught in headlights, but Tara just smiled sweetly and replied, “I was just saying to Willow that, after everything that's happened tonight, it's made me realise that life is fleeting, we don't have all the time in the world. Sometimes things need to be said or done so you can look back and have no regrets, so, I was going to say, if you decide that you want to get involved with Spike...”

Buffy's eyes widened at this, but Tara kept going.

“IF you decide to be with Spike, I just want you to know that we...” she looked at Willow at this point and got a firm nod. “...support you and your decision. As long as you're happy, we're happy.”

Willow again nodded. “What she said. But if he hurts you, I’m turning him into a toad or something gross, OK?”

“Thanks, guys, but I don't really know what's gonna happen with Spike and me at the moment. It's been brought to my attention that I've...we've treated Spike pretty bad recently.” Buffy looked up at her mother's cough and raised eyebrows. “OK, OK!, I've treated him like crap since he told me how he feels about me and well, that's gonna stop, but what that means for the two of us I don't know. I mean if Spike loves me then that brings up questions that I really don't want to ask or answer.”

“Sweetie?” Joyce enquired, stepping closer to her daughter. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if Spike loves me-- and that's a big if-- then he's doing it without a soul. Angel told me that it wasn't possible. After he came back from hell, we talked, about...things. He said that without souls, demons and vamps couldn't love.”

Various nods of understanding from around the room followed.

“So, either Angel's right and Spike doesn't really love me, or Spike is the exception to the rule and is unique.”

More nods of agreement greeted this, so she pressed on.

“Or...” she continued slowly, thinking aloud. “Angel lied to me because he couldn't love me without his soul, which means it was only the soul that loved me, not Angel himself. See...but now that I've said that, it's got everyone thinking about it, even me, and I’m not sure if I want to know the answer...'cos if I’m honest...I'm thinking maybe Angel never really loved me...or at least not all of him. It was just his soul, which would explain why he was the way he was without it.

“So, if you're still riding my logic-train, that means both Spike and his demon love me. Only Angel's soul loved me, not him, not the demon, just the soul. If that's true then that makes Spike a better man than Angel...and how can that be true? Right? I mean, how wig-some would that be?

“Don't you see the problem?” Buffy practically pleaded with them. “If that's true, then we've been dropped into some bizzaro-upside-down crazy world!”

 

 

CHAPTER THREE:

Breakfast was a subdued affair the following morning for the three women of the house, but at the back of their minds was the fact that Dawn was safe and Spike had stopped an apocalypse. No mean feat, vampire or not.

With that on Spike's résumé, it wasn't that much of a surprise for Joyce, on entering her room later that day, to find Buffy keeping a silent vigil. The Slayer had pulled a chair up near the bed so she could keep watch over the broken vamp and Dawn, who was, yet again, curled up and dozing next to Spike. Dawn hadn't slept well the previous night, so Joyce was content to leave her as she was.

Spotting Spike's duster, which had been laid over the back of the chair in front of her vanity table, Joyce emptied the pockets onto the bedside table then took it downstairs to hang up . Just as she got to the coat rack in the foyer, the front doorbell rang. She quickly hung Spike's coat up with the others and answered the door. The postman greeted her with a letter that required a signature as record of delivery. Joyce promptly signed for it and returned to her room with the envelope, having recognized the handwriting on the front as Spike's elegant, old-fashioned script.

Sitting next to the bed, Buffy was struggling to get her mind around everything that had taken place over the last twenty-four hours with regards to Spike and herself. The physical pain and damage he had suffered because of her and her family was enormous. She knew he would brush it off as inconsequential due to his being a vampire, but it still tore at her conscience. No matter how she tilted, spun or skewed the arguments, there was no doubt that Spike had saved her sister's life. In the process he had endured horrible injuries on two separate occasions, just to make sure that Buffy, Dawn and joyce were protected and spared any pain.

Buffy's mind drifted back in time a moment, thinking of Angel and how he'd left to supposedly spare her pain and suffering. She swallowed hard, her eyes refocusing on the broken and bruised vamp lying in front of her. Spike had stayed and used himself as a shield against the emotional and physical pain of this latest confrontation. How different could two men...two vampires be? It was just as she fully grasped this distinction that she heard a sudden gasp from her mother, who had returned unnoticed from downstairs.

“Mom? What is it?”

The hand in which Joyce held the letter was trembling. When her mother raised her head and met Buffy's worried gaze, her eyes were filled with tears.

“Mom? You're scaring me. What is it? Tell me.” Buffy had gotten to her feet and had approached Joyce when she didn't get an answer. She was stopped in her tracks as her mother's face lit up into a bright, shining, tear-streaked smile.

“He...he...oh, Buffy, read it.” Joyce held the letter out to her, but her eyes never wavered from the blond man currently occupying her bed.

Buffy took the letter and began to read:

Dear Joyce,

You'll have to bear with me, pet, but there's a lot going on at the moment so I’ve snuck down into the basement of the magic shop to get a couple of minutes alone.

We've got a little while before we're off to try and get the niblet back, and there are some things that need to be said.

First off, we're getting Dawn back and she's going to be fine. This I promise, no arguments.

Secondly, Buffy's going to be fine too. This I promise as well. Even if I have to dust to make it happen, you're gonna have your two babies home.

This brings me to number three. There's a bank account under my name that I set up about a month ago, once I’d found someone who was friendly to demon finances to help. It's got everything that was made when my inheritance from my human family was sold off. We weren't all that wealthy, but we had a fair amount of land and property in Berkshire, and a comfortable London house, all of which became mine. It's been sitting in a bank account for the last 120 years in England. I had it transferred over here and converted into dollars, so there should be enough in there to comfortably set you, Dawn and Buffy up for life.

In case you haven't already guessed, I’m not planning on making it through tonight. Better for me to kick it than Buffy or Dawn, but I do need one thing from you. Please tell Dawn that I’m sorry, but this was the way it had to be. Make sure she knows it's not her fault...don't ever let her blame herself; it's my choice. And tell Buffy...Well tell Buffy I’m sorry I couldn't be who she wanted me to be, but that she was everything I could have ever wanted. Whether she believes me or not... I do love her.

Right then, last bit of info, better get this done before I start crying like a wanker and the bloody ink runs! When you go to the bank, ask for a man named Simon Dean, head of accounts. Tell him your name and inform him you would like to transfer the money from William Pratt's account to yours. He'll ask you for two pieces of information. The first thing he'll want is a certain name, to which you tell him: Buffy Anne Summers. The second will be a date, to which you tell him: 19th January 1981, Buffy's birthday. With that, the money should be in your account within twenty-four hours....Consider it a thank you for always giving me a chance, and seeing the man behind the monster.

Don't know if it'll mean much after tonight, but you've been the closest thing I’ve had to a mum in 120 years, Joyce, and for that I thank you.

Take care of Buffy and Dawn and take care of yourself as well.

~Spike

Buffy finished reading and looked up at her mother. She tried to speak, but nothing would come. She tried again, still nothing; she couldn't force the words past the tightness in her throat. Buffy could only watch silently as her mother moved past her and placed a light kiss on the forehead of the broken man that had provided so much, had done so much for her family.

As she straightened up, Joyce turned back to her daughter and, seeing the tears about to spill down her face, opened her arms and pulled a sobbing Buffy into her embrace.

“Oh, God, Mom! He...thought he...was gonna...die, he...really...thought...he should...die...for...me...for...us.

“Ssshhhh. Buffy, honey, it's OK. He's here, you're here, Dawn's here. Everything's gonna be OK.”

Buffy was shaking her head, still quietly sobbing so as not to disturb Dawn. “It's not OK, Mom. He was gonna die for me and then set us up for life, and all this after the way I treated him. What's wrong with him?! What's wrong with me?!

“I find a man who can act like this, sacrifice so much for me, love me in spite of all kinds of shit I throw in his face, and he doesn't walk away. How could I have been so stupid and cruel? God, Mom! I hurt him. I used to hurt him on purpose just for that brief flash of pain in his eyes, and regard that as a trophy! But he still loves me!”

Buffy pulled away from her mother and started pacing angrily back and forth at the end of the bed. “Fucking Angel!”

“Buffy, language!”

Buffy stopped pacing and turned to look at her mother. “Sorry, Mom, but it's true! If he hadn't brainwashed me into all that crap about demons not being able to love without a soul, then who knows what might've happened between me and Spike. Because Angel couldn't love without a soul, I believed Spike couldn't either. Look at how much he's had to fight and sacrifice because of that. Hello! I thought having someone love you was a good thing, but because of Angel and his bullshit-”

“Buffy!” Joyce admonished again.

“I totally believed that whatever Spike thought he felt had to be destroyed. Because of Angel I hurt and abused a good man whose only crime was falling in love with me!”

“Finally figured it out, huh?”

Buffy spun and found herself looking at a grinning and very awake Dawn, still cuddled into Spike's left side.

“Took you long enough. And, while we're pointing out flaws in Buffy's and Angel's world views, did you ever stop to consider the fact that Spike didn't ask for this? Do you honestly think, of all the women on the planet that Spike could've fallen in love with he would have chosen you!? I don't...no way.”

Dawn's grin became even wider when she saw the sheepish expression on her sister's face. “So, now that you've figured that out, you gonna stop being a royal bitch to him?”

“DAWN SUMMERS! LANGUAGE, YOUNG LADY!”

“Sorry, Mom, but she is, and I want it to stop. Spike's my friend and I want a little respect for him” Dawn turned to look at Buffy, holding her gaze.”OK?” she asked with a little hint of aggression in her tone. Dawn was surprised when Buffy shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, clearly abashed.

“Yeah, you're right Dawnie,” Buffy conceded. “He does deserve my... respect. I’m sorry... I really am.

“While you're awake, there's something else we need to talk about, though. Mom got a letter this morning...”

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR:

It had been three days since Spike had fallen from the tower. Three days of him lying unmoving and unconscious. Three days of worrying and fussing by the Summers family and still...nothing. Not a flicker of movement or even a grating, shaky indrawn breath that he didn't need. Three days of watching him waste away.

Life for the Scoobies had, pretty much, returned to normal. Tara and Willow visited as often as they could to check on Buffy and Dawn. Even Giles had made what could only be described as a 'flying visit' to see the situation for himself. Anya had put in an appearance as well, minus Xander at Joyce's insistence. He was still persona non grata as far as the Summers family was concerned. Tara enquired after Spike whenever they came over, but Joyce and Buffy found themselves repeating the same thing over and over again.

“Sorry, Tara, but he's still the same,” they would say with tight expressions of concern.

Dawn had barely left Spike's side except to use the bathroom, eat and, just recently, to sleep. She was now sleeping back in her room which put Buffy on the couch, as Joyce still occupied her room. The arrangements weren't ideal, but Joyce would have no arguments whenever the subject had been broached by their visitors regarding moving Spike to the basement.

“He stays, end of discussion,” was the most anyone had managed to get out of Joyce. Most of the time a stern look was all that was necessary to forestall the beginnings of a conversation on the subject.

The most worrying thing was that none of them had been able to get Spike to feed in those three days. As a result, Spike's injuries were healing at a painfully slow rate, his wounds still open and raw and the bruising covering most of his body had taken on a vivid black and blue colour with angry purple filling the spaces in-between.

Although going three days without feeding wouldn't be a hardship under normal circumstances, Spike's circumstances were far from normal. He'd already begun to look emaciated from lack of sustenance. His eyes were set in deep, dark hallows, and his cheekbones stood out against his bruised skin like knife blades. It wouldn't be long before he was nothing but skin and bones...and then what? How long could this continue? Could a vampire actually dust from starvation? No one really knew the answer to that. Hadn't Spike mentioned something about 'living skeletons' after first getting chipped? But just how long could vampires live as skeletons?

The dozen or so attempts at feeding him had ended up with nothing more than the blood simply pooling in his mouth and flowing out again. His throat seemed to be completely closed up – non functioning. There wasn't even a gag reflex to blood settling on the back of the vamps tongue. No matter how they tried, nothing they did could get Spike to actually swallow the blood. This, in turn, necessitated the daily changing of the bed linen by Dawn as Buffy and Joyce tried to cradle Spike's broken figure as best they could between them. To say they were frustrated, as well as concerned and anxious, would be a gross understatement.

Joyce came into her room the morning of that third day with another mug of blood and the books that Dawn had asked her to find.

Normally, Dawn had to be dragged away from the television, so Joyce was surprised when her youngest had asked her to look for her collection of Harry Potter novels. But, looking at her daughter and the concern she was showing for her friend, it was clear to Joyce that she'd asked for the books so she could stay with Spike.

Placing the mug on the bed-side table and handing Dawn her books, Joyce observed the quick new routine that she had acquired since the vampire had become her house-guest. Walking to the windows, she made certain that the heavy black blanket was securely fastened to the wall, covering the thick dark curtains that had been placed over the windows that first night. Satisfied that everything was in order, she moved back to the table and was just about to start trying to feed Spike when Buffy came in, returning from the bathroom.

“Uh, Mom? Why don't you let me do that? Just in case... and Dawn? You should know by now, we've been over this before.”

“But, Buffy, it'll be fine, he won't d-”

“No! God, how many times do I have to say this? It's only for a couple of minutes, and it's just... it's just in case, OK?”

Dawn grumbled under her breath as she got up off the bed and went to join her mother, who had backed away towards her vanity table on the other side of the room. They had agreed that Buffy would be the one to try and feed Spike, just in case his demon suddenly made an appearance that his conscious mind obviously couldn't control, being that he was unconscious.

“Buffy's right, honey, it's safer this way. Anyway, how do you think Spike would feel when he wakes up to find out he accidentally hurt one of us, hhmmm?”

Dawn was not happy at being ganged-up on but accepted her mom's reasoning. “Yeah, OK. But I still don't think anything’s gonna happen. I mean, from what Spike and Giles have told me the only thing that's gonna make his demon lose it like that is Slayer's bloo...” Dawn's eyes widened at this.

Joyce latched straight onto Dawn's train of thought.

“Of course! Buffy! Slayer's blood!” Joyce exclaimed turning wide, excited eyes to her eldest daughter. “We've been trying to get him to respond by giving him pig's blood. What about Slayer's blood? Your blood? We could try adding a couple of drops to the mug and see if that makes a difference?”

Buffy's initial thought was 'no way, uh uh, not happening' but seeing the hopeful look on her sister's and mother's faces made her stop and think again. 'OK, so maybe it's not that bad right? A few drops, I can spare that. Look at what he's sacrificed for me, for all three of us.' Remembering the letter she had read just two days ago finally convinced her inner sceptic. Buffy decided if she was gonna help Spike, she was gonna do it right.

“OK! OK! I’ll do it. But you're both gonna stay over there --I mean it, Dawn--” Buffy scowled, emphasizing her admonishment when her sister looked like she was gonna try and interrupt. “--you stay over there until I say so, or you can wait outside!”

Dawn pouted but nodded her head. “I'll stay,” she mumbled to her feet, loud enough for Buffy to hear.

“OK, then. Sorry to say it, but the same goes for you too, Mom. This could be dangerous and I will not have either of you hurt so you both stay there. Agreed?”

Joyce looked at her daughter with admiration. 'I raised a hell of a young woman, it turns out.' “I understand, Buffy. I promise we won't move.” She reached down and gripped Dawn's hand, and gave Buffy a firm nod.

Buffy glanced back to Spike and then her mother and sister. She knew this could be dangerous. If Spike's demon emerged in a feral state, he wouldn't be aware of his surroundings or conscious of who was in the room with him. Even the chip might not be enough to stop him from hurting someone. Buffy knew she could handle Spike if it came to a physical confrontation. In his current state he was no match for her, but her family...that was a different story altogether.

“Mom? Could you go to my room and grab a stake and some holy water from my chest in the closet? Just...in case?”

Dawn looked horrified at Buffy's suggestion as Joyce disappeared from the room. The youngest Summers was angry and hurt at the accusation she thought she heard in her sister's tone.

“No arguments, Dawn! It's just in case, OK? I don't think we're gonna need them...but... they're for you and Mom, just in case.”

Joyce returned with her findings and pressed the small bottle of holy water and, Buffy noticed, a cross into her daughter's hand. Gripping the stake in her hand, Joyce once again nodded to Buffy.

Buffy reached over to the bed-side table and picked up the switchblade that had been put with the rest of Spike's things when Joyce had emptied the contents of his duster's pockets. Nicking the end of her index finger, she then held her hand over the mug and squeezed. A half-dozen drops later, the Slayer was dabbing at the end of her finger with a scrunched up ball of tissue paper that Dawn had produced from a jean pocket and thrown across the room to her.

Dawn and Joyce watched with bated breath as Buffy passed the mug under Spike's nose multiple times and got no response at all. Dawn was clearly disappointed; she thought she had come up with a solution to their problem.

“Sorry, Buffy, I honestly thought it would work,” she said dejectedly.

Buffy looked back at her mother and sister, the disappointment clearly visible on their faces, and decided that maybe more drastic action needed to be taken. Squeezing the tip of her index finger again to get a small droplet of blood to form, she slowly rubbed the finger, and blood, across Spike's lower lip. The reaction was slow but clearly visible to all, a soft growl rumbled in Spike's chest and his tongue slowly peeked out to lick away the Slayer's blood.

“Buffy! It worked! He moved! Spike moved!” Dawn all but shouted and made to move towards the pair on the bed before being restrained by Joyce, who was watching the events with concern.

“OK, new plan,” Buffy announced, buoyed by Spike's reaction. “I’m gonna feed him directly, only, I’m not sure I want you to see that. It's probably gonna hurt and -”

“Are you sure about this, Buffy? I trust Spike, you know that, but this...I don't know.” Joyce looked...uneasy at the prospect of letting her daughter feed Spike directly from her veins.

“MOM!” Dawn clearly didn't want to hear this coming from her mother. “He's not gonna hurt her, it's Spike!” she said with total conviction, as if that settled the argument. Joyce was about to protest to her youngest when Buffy intervened.

“I'll be fine. I can handle Spike, I promise. I mean look at him...He's not exactly in much of a condition to fight, is he? It's you two I’m worried about...maybe you should wait outside while I do this.”

Dawn's reaction was instantaneous. “I'm staying. It was my idea, so you're not gonna get rid of me that easily. Maybe it'll help, you never know...maybe Spike will sense us and it'll calm him...y'know?”

Buffy could tell Dawn was reaching at that point, desperate for any excuse to stay. Turning to her mother with a raised eyebrow, she silently put it to Joyce to decide.

Joyce remained silent for a long beat. Finally, making her decision, she spoke. “I’m staying...and so is your sister. I presume you're going to cut yourself?” Joyce's voice was firm and she had a determined look on her face that clearly meant that the subject was not open to debate.

At Buffy's nod she continued on. “Well then, I’ll get the first aid kit to clean you up once you're done. Dawn, could you go and get a glass of orange juice and some cookies, for when Buffy's finished?”

Buffy smiled at the pair as they left the room and turned back to the vampire responsible for all this fuss. “You'd better appreciate this, Spike, and you'd better wake up too.”

Buffy was either too proud or too embarrassed to admit to anyone else, but she missed Spike. She missed his snarky comebacks and his head-tilt complete with smug grin, and she really missed his blue eyes. That last bit she wasn't telling anybody, ever, but she really missed his blue eyes. The way he had looked at her ever since he'd revealed his feelings for her. She missed that look.

“Ready, honey?”

Buffy was startled out of her reverie by her mother's voice and, turning in the direction of the voice, noticed both she and Dawn had returned. Everything they had gone to get was now laid out on the table behind the pair of them.

“I guess I’m as ready as I’m gonna be...are you sure you want to stay? I mean, this may not be very...nice.”

Joyce looked at Dawn and got a nod so, turning back to Buffy, she spoke softly but with conviction. “We're staying.”

Again Buffy reached for the switchblade she had replaced on the bed-side table and, looking at Spike, blew out a slightly shaky breath. This was an unknown to her. When Angel had needed her blood, he had been overcome with blood-lust and had nearly drained her to the point of death, and all while being conscious. That was a luxury Spike didn't have at the moment, and she was concerned that once his demon appeared there would be no stopping it, even with the chip. The hope she clung to was that Spike's demon loved her as much as Spike himself. Maybe that would be enough...maybe.

Drawing the blade across her wrist, Buffy hissed in pain as the steel bit into her flesh and left a clean slice in her skin. It wasn't too deep but she made sure it bled freely before sitting on the bed on Spike's left side and moving her wrist under Spike's nose. A few seconds passed, and Buffy was just beginning to think that yet another attempt had failed, when Spike's face slowly morphed into his vampire visage. After another few moments his head moved, unconsciously it seemed, searching for the source of the aroma stirring him. Buffy held her arm still and allowed him to fasten his mouth over the wound. His fangs slid into her tender flesh like razors and he began pulling her life-blood from her veins in long, slow drafts.

'OH...MY...GOD!!' Buffy was completely unprepared for the bolt of pleasure that shot through her body, obliterating her nerve endings on its way. It was like someone had placed a river of molten pleasure inside her body between her clit and the base of her spine, and tide after tide of pure bliss rolled through her. Where her spine used to be was what could only now be described as a waterfall, with pulse after pulse of energy running up its length to finally detonate somewhere in her brain.

And what an exquisite detonation it was! She exploded from within with a warm feeling of completeness. That was the only way to describe it. She felt safe, loved, and home, not to mention soaked between her thighs! She could feel her juices flowing between her legs, dampening her panties and soaking through to her jeans.

Her racing heartbeat pulsed in her pussy-lips and her channel throbbed in need as more and more of her cream slid from her body. Buffy's flood of desire seemed to match the slow draw that Spike was eliciting from her wrist.

'OH, God, I think...yes...I'm gonna cum! I can't stop it! I’m gonna CUM!!!'

Buffy's body almost bowed in on itself as her abdominal muscles contracted and released uncontrollably. Her free hand shot to the back of Spike's head to hold him to her as her body convulsed in rhythmic contractions. Her orgasmic spasms were mirrored by her pussy's clenching and unclenching, forcing more liquid from her in what felt like small squirts. White light burst behind her eyes, blinding her, and the only thing she could focus on was sensation. Blissful, heavenly, overwhelming sensation.

She let out a soft whimper as she regained some of the breath that had been stolen from her, her orgasm apparently over, but it wasn't. This was just the trough between the first and a second, even larger one.

Her mouth clamped shut, grinding her teeth, as her eyes followed suit in preparation for something she had never experienced before. A true multiple orgasm.

It crashed through her body, causing the river from her clit to her spine to widen to an ocean, as more pleasure tried to force its way through her body. The waterfall could now be described as Niagara for its breadth and power. Exhilarating pulses of pure feeling surged up her body, as if in a race to be the first one to detonate a euphoric A-bomb in her brain. Only this time, they didn't detonate.

The rapturous feelings flowed back down her spine, pushing back to her clit and then pressing in further. The blissful flood surged deep into her core to find that spot high on the inside of her pussy to explode and pulse with wild abandon. The river of bliss crashed over her time and time again, drowning Buffy in a flood of ecstasy.

Buffy tried to breathe, but couldn't remember how. She tried to scream, but had no breath to fuel it. All she could do was give into the experience as her body surrendered to one...constant...orgasm, the likes of which she had never before experienced.

Buffy's body had folded in on itself; somehow she had lifted her legs onto the bed and brought her knees up to her chest. Her body had curled up into a tight ball, every muscle and tendon taut and straining under the constant convulsions caused by the waves of bliss washing over her. The only bits left free were her left wrist, which was still at Spike's mouth, and her right hand, still firmly planted on the back of Spike's skull, holding him in place.

The voice in her head was somewhere between sobbing and screaming 'OH...MY...GOD...I...CAN'T...STOP...CUMMMMIIINNNGGG!!

Buffy's body jerked and shook like electric current was being passed through her. Her mind was totally vacant --left the premises, gone to lunch, back in five minutes. Having been transported to Nirvana, Buffy hadn't noticed Joyce hurriedly shoo Dawn out of the room at the very first sign that maybe Spike wasn't hurting Buffy, and follow suit herself.

It was all too much for Buffy's conscious mind to handle, but not too much to numb her emotions to the experience or sensations washing over her. She teetered on the edge of a precipice, enjoying the thrill of balancing so high but hoping she didn't fall back to earth, because she didn't want to miss a second of feeling this exquisite pleasure.

Finally, just as her muscles were starting to protest the punishing rhythm of contractions they were being forced to endure, the release lessened to a more manageable point where Buffy wasn't so overwhelmed.

She found herself able to breathe again, noticing she was gulping in great lungfuls of air, and her sight had returned. She blinked a couple of times to clear the coloured spots from her vision and uncurled her quivering body to lie down next to Spike. No longer able to hold her arms up, she removed her wrist from his mouth and the hand from the back of his head. Glancing at her wrist briefly, she was surprised to see that it had stopped bleeding already. Slayer healing had its advantages!

As she came back to herself, she realised two things almost immediately. Spike was still unconscious, now back to his human visage, and purring softly. . 'Huh...Spike purrs, who would have thought?'

The second thing was, apart from some delicious aftershocks still causing the odd muscle twitch and jerk, she didn't feel drained or even light-headed in the slightest – well not from loss of blood, anyway.

'Angel's bite hurt like fuck and he nearly killed me. Spike's bite makes me cum uncontrollably and he stops before I’m anywhere near being in danger.' Buffy was pondering all the ramifications of this fact when her mother knocked on the door.

“Buffy? Are you OK in there?”

Buffy's cheeks flamed with embarrassment as she pushed back what her inner Buffy was telling her to say. Instead she answered using the functioning, rational part of her brain that had returned from its extended tour to parts unknown.

“I'm fine, Mom, you can come in now.” Buffy stayed on the bed as her mother came in, fearing her legs would not be able to support her weight. She did manage to sit up, folding her legs under her, so she was resting on her shins and knees. She turned an embarrassed look to her mother, hoping Joyce hadn't been present for the grand finalé.

Joyce was looking at Buffy with a strange expression; a sort of tight, controlled worry was the best thing Buffy's brain could come up with.

“Are you OK, sweetie? He didn't hurt you, did he?”

“I'm fine, Mom...” was what Buffy finally decided to say, after shouting down the more inappropriate things that a daughter really shouldn't say to her mother. “...he really didn't hurt me.”

A sudden flush came to Buffy's cheeks and her breathing suddenly became shallow and erratic on remembering the intensity of what had passed through her. Joyce looked relieved at Buffy's assurance as she moved further into the room, then her eyes suddenly widened to almost comical proportions as the reality of what had happened to her daughter sunk in.

“Oh...OH! ...Well, um, I...I...” Joyce stammered, taking in Buffy's glow, her glistening skin, and breathlessness. That was as far as she got before her amusement at Buffy's mortified expression overtook her. Joyce lifted a hand to her mouth to cover her smile, but she couldn't contain her mirth. In the next moment she burst into laughter at her daughter's reply and embarrassed expression.

Buffy glowered at her mother for several moments. She thought this was funny? There was no funny here! Buffy's annoyance only made Joyce laugh harder, doubling over on fits of glee. Buffy rolled her eyes and pressed her lips together tightly, trying to keep herself from smiling as her mother's contagious laughter washed over her. Buffy shook her head and rolled her eyes to the ceiling as if looking for strength from the heavens, but it was a lost cause. A small giggle slipped from her lips and she knew then the war was lost.

Before long, they were both laughing uncontrollably about the situation that they found themselves in. It was into this that Dawn walked a minute or so later. Dawn looked from one to the other of them, waiting for some explanation, but they paid her no mind. The youngest Summers girl huffed in disdain and folded her arms over her chest, but still they didn't notice. Dawn finally just rolled her eyes in exasperation and walked back out the room, completely oblivious to what had happened or what they found so amusing.

“So I suppose you'll be feeding Spike again?” Joyce asked between giggles.

Buffy's face flushed hot and turned an even brighter shade of pink, but she couldn't stop the giggles that burbled through her words. “Well...I suppose I do owe him that much. I mean... it's a sacrifice, but...Slayer here-- I’m all about sacrifices.”

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE:

Buffy stood in the doorway of her mother's room, watching the two occupants with a slight smile on her face. Dawn had resumed her position on the bed, propped up against the headboard, reading. Spike was still unconscious; however, the small amount of Slayer blood, taken earlier that day and now running through him, had done a little to heal his wounds. The gash on the side of his head had at least shown signs of closing. Buffy was encouraged at this as it meant that, with a little more time (and blood), Spike would eventually be back on his feet.

What still gnawed at her mind was the unsettling distinction she had drawn earlier between Angel and Spike, and how different they were from each other. As much as she would have liked to deny it, her feelings towards Spike were changing. To what end, she didn't know yet, but the things he had done for her and her family refused to be ignored.

'He saved Dawn's life...Twice! He endured torture at the hands of a god for hours to protect my sister and in his words, spare me pain. He fought beside me when Dawn's life, and the world, was at stake and he did this thinking it would make no difference as to how I felt about him. He honestly thought he was going to die that night and had taken steps to look after my family after his death. All this after the way I had treated him, after I knew how he felt about me!'

Buffy's inner voice would not be silent about this, it kept pushing, prodding, forcing her to look at him from an objective stand-point. It also pushed for her to do the same where Angel was concerned and she had to admit, in light of recent events, Angel could be said to be found wanting in comparison.

'Spike helped me patrol, Angel rarely did. If Spike heard of something or discovered something he couldn't handle himself, he told me about it and helped. Angel kinda hinted at stuff, all vague and confusing most of the time, and left me to deal with it! Spike stayed with me when he knew I would never love him...he stayed 'cos he knew he could help, and 'cos he loved me. Angel left 'cos we couldn't have sex! He didn't try to find a way around the curse, or stay 'cos he loved me. He left 'cos he couldn't get his dick wet without becoming a psychotic murderer!

Spike did all this, fighting beside me, protecting my sister, enduring torture, he did this without that coveted soul that Angel was so proud of. Would Angelus have helped me or protected my sister? Let's not forget how Angel got that soul of his... the rape and torture and murder of a young gypsy girl. He was cursed with it, yet he treats it like a badge of honour, like he'd somehow earned it or fought for it!

Buffy shied away from that line of thought; that way lead to many things she didn't want to know concerning Angel and his curse.

All this thinking was making Buffy's brain pound against her skull as if trying to escape. It was all so confusing; everything she 'knew' was suddenly in question. She'd lived many years 'knowing' that soulless vampires-- i.e., all vampires except Angel-- were evil things to be removed from the world. Now, trying to wrap her head fully around this new idea that soulless vampires may not all be the same, shook the very foundation of her world. It was much easier living in a world of black and white than a world of greys. Black and white is crisp and clean, the lines are clear, good guys and bad guys are easy to spot; grey is a muddled mass of confusion … like her mutinous brain.

Buffy was brought back to the present by the phone ringing downstairs and the soft sound of her mother in conversation with whoever was on the other end.

Heading downstairs, Buffy met Joyce in the foyer, apparently on her way up to look for her.

“Oh, Buffy, there you are. I was just coming to find you. That was Giles on the phone. He was just curious if you were going to patrol tonight?”

“I don't think I should, Mom, not with Spike the way he is. We don't know what he's gonna be like when he wakes up and I’d rather be here when he does. Could you let him know I’ll be doing quick sweeps when I can, not full patrols, at least until Spike's awake. Would you mind? ”

“No, I don't mind at all, honey; I’ll phone him back and tell him. How's Spike? Any change?”

“No, he's still out of it. But I think he's getting better after...y'know?”

Joyce smiled slightly at Buffy's embarrassed expression. They hadn't really talked about what happened but obviously Joyce wasn't completely naïve as to what her daughter had experienced earlier in the day.

Joyce was, in a way, glad that Buffy had confided in her about what happened, however cryptically and reluctantly she had done it. It was a sign of how close the pair of them were that Buffy felt she could talk to her mother about such things, and Joyce would have it no other way. She didn't want Buffy to feel that there were things she couldn't talk to her about. There had been too many secrets for too many years. Joyce wanted her daughter to feel like she could tell her anything; wanted to make sure Buffy knew she wasn't alone, no matter what that stupid Slayer handbook said. It was something that Joyce wanted to reinforce.

“And how are you after...” Joyce let her voice trail away as she smiled at her daughter.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, Buffy. If you need, or want, advice or someone to talk to without any judgements, you know you can come to me, right?”

“I know, Mom, I really do, it's just... a bit weird, y'know? I mean, you weren't meant to see... that. Hell, I wasn't meant to feel... that. It kinda took me by surprise how good it fel--”

Buffy's eyes widened suddenly as she realised what she was saying and who she was saying it to. She loved her mom, and she knew, without a doubt, that her mom loved her and would have talked to her about it and tried to help her figure things out. But there were still some things she didn't want to discuss with her, and what was definitely the most amazing orgasm of her life was at the top of that list!

How was she supposed to look her mother in the face and say, in all honesty, that for a handful of moments there, all she wanted was to have Spike bury himself inside her body so deeply and for her to clench her pussy muscles around him so tightly that she wouldn't know where he ended and she began? That she wanted to look into those blue eyes of his as his cock pried apart her smooth, wet walls and cradle him inside her for hours?

Buffy's eyes dropped shamefully to look at the floor and so she missed Joyce's small smile as her mom spoke softly.

“I mean it, Buffy, you can tell me anything and I will only ever try to help... do you understand?” she asked as she touched a finger to her daughter's chin and raised her head so she could see her eyes. Their eyes met and held for several heartbeats, long enough for them both to feel the other's unconditional love and dedication.

Buffy nodded her head and suddenly engulfed her mom in a tight hug that knocked Joyce back a step and had her laughing in surprise.

“Thanks, Mom.” She pulled back to look at her mother and spoke slowly and clearly, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Buffy,” Joyce replied just as emphatically. “Now... how about I phone Giles and tell him of the change to your patrol routine, then, what do you say to lunch, hhmmm?”

“Sounds like a solid plan.”

Buffy headed back upstairs to collect her sister, and after a little 'discussion' as to why Dawn couldn't eat her lunch on Joyce's bed, the pair of them were soon seated with their mother at the dining table and eating happily. The conversation was uneventful until the subject of Spike was broached by Dawn.

“So, how long do you think it'll be before he wakes up, now that he's had Slayer blood? I mean, it'll help, won't it? He'll get better, right?”

Buffy could sense the worry in her sister's tone and hurried to reassure her. “He'll be fine, Dawnie, I promise. Like I said before, as long as he's not dust, he'll be OK. As for when he wakes up? Who knows? This is Spike we're talking about!” Buffy grinned a little and her tone took on a light, teasing quality. “He'll probably stay unconscious for as long as he can, just to annoy me.”

Both Dawn and Joyce smiled at this and Dawn giggled lightly before sobering and putting voice to something she had been thinking about over the last few days, since the ordeal with Glory.

“He's really...different... isn't he? From other vampires, I mean. I know you still think of him as a monster but, he has changed, hasn't he? Even before the tower, he did things, things I didn't think vampires were supposed to do.”

Buffy didn't really know where to start with how she felt about Spike, or the things he'd done. Sensing her indecision, Joyce stepped in to fill the silence.

“Yes, Dawnie, I think he is different, but I don't really know if he has changed all that much. He's never treated me with anything other than respect and always been polite; he even pays for the coffee and hot chocolate we have together.”

Buffy's brow furrowed at this. “What do you mean, 'coffee and hot chocolate'?

Joyce's look of surprise was clear to both the Summers girls. “You didn't know? But, Spike told me he told you about it.” Buffy's continued questioning look caused Joyce to press on. “Three times a week, when the gallery's open late, Spike comes with coffee or hot chocolate for me and keeps me company, and in his words: 'Keeps an eye on me.' Then he walks me to the car and makes sure I get on my way home... … Why... he told me you knew about this, why would he lie?”

Dawn was quick to jump in with an explanation, “He probably thought Buffy would make him stop seeing you, I mean, I’m not allowed to see him at his crypt anymore. If she didn't know about it, she couldn't give him a hard time and threaten him, or hit him, until he stopped.”

“HEY!” Buffy shouted, clearly hurt at the accusation. “First of all, SHE is sitting right here, thank you very much. God, rude much? And second, I wouldn't have hit him and threatened him.” At the surprised raised eyebrows from her family, Buffy quickly countered, “What? I wouldn't have, if Spike wanted to spend time with Mom, I would have let him... I would!” she insisted.

Dawn snorted around a mouthful of food. “Yeah, right. So, when I feel safe around him and like spending time with him 'cos he's nice to me, I’m totally never allowed to see him again, but Mom spending time with him, that's OK? C'mon Buffy, you'd have threatened to stake him, and you know it.”

Buffy, fuming with righteous indignation, looked at her mother for support, but it was clear Joyce agreed with Dawn. Clearly outnumbered, Buffy looked down at her plate and thought about it. After a few seconds, her shoulders slumped and her anger faded as the shame hit her. Of course Dawn was right. Buffy would have ordered Spike to stay away from her mother, probably adding a couple of punches into the mix and topping it off with a threat of imminent stake-age if he came near her family again. One of the questions that came to her mind was 'why?' What was so wrong with Spike spending time with her mom, especially if Joyce enjoyed his company? Why did she keep pushing him away from her family? And why, knowing that Spike's chip wouldn't allow him to hurt anyone or, for that matter defend himself, did she keep hitting him?

'If he says something I don't like, I hit him. If he does something I don't like, I hit him. When I needed his HELP, and didn't want to pay him, I hit him. If I'd had a bad day, I'd take it out on him, and hit him. If I-- OK! OK! OK! I get it!'

Without speaking or looking at her sister or her mom, Buffy left the table and went upstairs to maintain her vigil over the vampire she was learning more about every day, it seemed. Her black and white world continued to be shaken, mixed up, and turned upside down until all she could see were shades of grey everywhere she looked. It was something she couldn't let go of. Spike had done so much for her and her family. Even without a soul, he had endeavoured, struggled, to be better than he was, for her, and she'd repaid him with violence, humiliation and scorn.

'And he still loves me!' Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed with a heavy heart, taking Spike's hand in hers. She looked at the broken vampire...no, not vampire... something more than a vampire. She looked at the broken man in front of her and promised, never again, to hurt him just because she could.

The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. Buffy spent the afternoon at Spike's side, seemingly locked in her own head. She spent hours trying to reconcile all the changes that she had experienced over the last few days and she finally came to grips with some startling revelations.

The first thing she realized, from the heavy weight that seemed to have taken up residence in her chest, was that she was truly sorry for the way she had treated Spike. She was also sorry for allowing her friends, Xander and Giles in particular, to do the same.

She also realised, unlike Dawn and her mother, that she had allowed other people to influence the way she thought about Spike. Angel, Xander and Giles all came to the forefront of this realisation. They hated the blond vampire for various reasons that were not her own. Yes, Spike was a vampire, but strangely, thinking back to that night in the Bronze, discussing the Slayers he'd killed, she realised he possessed a warrior's honour, and the fascination he had with Slayers came from wanting to test himself against the best.

As much as she was loath to admit it, Spike was certainly the most skilled opponent she had ever encountered. He was her equal; why else were the two of them still alive after the numerous battles they had fought before he was chipped? But it was that desire to test himself against the best that always seemed to lead him towards fighting fairly, wanting the victory, his, or hers, to be earned and deserved. A vampire with a sense of honour and a sense of fairness; could her new world get any further away from the black and white one she'd been inhabiting up until recently? Apparently, the answer to that was 'yes'.

Her final revelation was the most startling, but also, after giving it some close thought, something she had known all along, almost since their first meeting: Spike had the ability to love where other vampires, apparently, couldn't. When she thought back on it, one incident in particular came to mind to prove this point. By holding Drusilla at stake-point, Buffy had ordered Spike to release the many teenagers that he and his fellow vampires had been gifted by Buffy's former crush, Ford. Her entire strategy that night had come down to relying on the strength of Spike's love for his sire to save her life and the lives of everyone else. 'If I hadn't somehow sensed Spike could love, I would most likely be dead right now. My instincts were counting on that fact to save my life. And they were right!'

She realised now, with perfect clarity, Spike could love. He did love. He loved with everything he was capable of, and he loved her. Surprisingly, a warmth blossomed in her chest, lifting the heavy weight away, at the thought of the power and strength with which he loved, and that he was giving her that power and strength. He was giving it to her, with no hope, in his eyes, of her ever accepting it, let alone returning it. He put his heart in her deadly hands and simply waited for her to crush it. She could remember his eyes when he would look at her, shining with love, affection, adoration, and even respect, but behind it? A deep resignation of pain and rejection, accepting that that was the way things were for him and nothing he could do would ever change it.

He loved her. She didn't love him. That was his existence now.

These thoughts had rattled around Buffy's head for the remainder of the day and even during her sweep of the cemeteries later that night. So busy were her thoughts, she couldn't even remember staking the two vampires she had encountered, her Slayer instinct taking over and allowing her to function as if on auto-pilot. The sure knowledge that Spike could love refused to leave her thoughts as she readied herself for bed, and even chased her into the land of her dreams.

 

 

CHAPTER SIX:

Once again, Buffy found herself sitting next to Spike, watching over him as he continued to impersonate a corpse. His injuries were looking better, they were mostly closed now, the large bandages Buffy kept in her trunk no longer necessary to staunch the blood loss. She knew, however, that his internal injuries would take more time and blood to heal. Making a mental note to not involve her mother or sister again, she recalled her body's reaction to the blood-letting and flushed, feeling her panties dampening and her core clench and throb.

Joyce entered her room, observing her morning ritual of checking the windows, ensuring Spike was safe from the sun. She also checked the bedding, looking to see if they were still clean from the last time they had been changed. Just as she was leaning over Spike to check, she heard it... a faintly murmured word... just one... her name.

“Joyce?”

Buffy's eyes flew to Spike's face just in time to see him crack open his eyes, and there they were, those orbs of blue she had missed for so long. She couldn't contain the gasp of relief that escaped her as she moved closer to him. Joyce, having pulled back slightly in surprise, was now leaning over her shoulder.

“Spike? Can you hear me?” Buffy was inwardly proud her voice didn't crack under the barrage of emotions she was currently being assaulted with.

“Buffy? What..... where?”

“Sssshhhh, it's OK, you're--”

Spike's eyes suddenly widened massively and he sat up sharply, groaning in pain, his left arm coming to hold his damaged ribs on his right side.

“Dawn! Where is she? Is she OK? I....I....The tower....Glory! What--”

Buffy was overcome with emotion, her inner voice speaking to her, it seemed, with an air of reverence and awe, 'He's in pain, broken, and the first thing he thinks about is Dawn! What was I thinking, when I thought he couldn't love!?'

As if sensing the emotional turmoil her daughter was currently going through, Joyce stepped in to reassure the blond vampire, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder as she spoke softly. “Spike, everything's OK. Calm down, Dawn's fine. I promise. She's fine, you protected her.”

Spike blinked, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind and focused his eyes on Joyce, his expression still on the verge of panic. “Dawn's...safe?” he rasped, his voice rough from disuse, searching the elder Summers woman's eyes for the truth.

Joyce nodded, unable to speak, her heart in her throat as she tried to contain her emotions; but in the next moment she lost the battle. She couldn't hold back the tears that had welled in her eyes as she saw relief wash over the face of the man who had saved her children.

“You did it, Spike, you saved her.” Gently easing him back onto the bed, Joyce continued, “You saved them both, both my girls. Thank you. Thank you so much, Spike.” Leaning forward, she placed a kiss to his forehead and then pulled back and smiled through her tears at the shocked, and perhaps a little confused, vampire.

“She's OK.” Spike repeated, his voice growing stronger. He leaned back further into the pillow and closed his eyes, letting out an unneeded breath of relief. Dawn was safe. But he knew it wasn't because of him, he'd been lying in a heap at the bottom of the tower while someone else rescued her. He'd been taken out of the fight by his first opponent.

Opening his eyes, he turned to Buffy, and smiled tightly, hiding the grimace from the pain and guilt he was now becoming fully aware of. “She's OK.”

Buffy could only nod her head, her eyes misting slightly at the sight of him. She reached out and took his hand in hers as she smiled, a true, happy smile, the first in what felt like forever. Having Spike come back to the world of the living, so to speak, finally forced everything home to her.

They'd done it. They'd stopped another apocalypse. Only this time, for her, the stakes had been so much higher than before, in a way. She'd known that if she'd failed before, the world would have ceased to exist as she knew it, and she and her friends and family would have died, but this time? It seemed more... real....more close to home...more personal... more....just more.

But they'd survived, every one of them, because of him, because Spike had done his best and was prepared to die to protect her sister. He'd stopped the apocalypse, and saved Dawn, all in one stroke. What she owed him, she couldn't guess; but what she felt for him, well, that was different. She would not deny it this time; she felt something for Spike, something that was frightening and unknown, but at the same time was intense and caused her stomach to flutter with butterflies. She didn't love him, she knew that with absolute certainty, but she also knew she was perched at the top of a chasm, and if she'd let herself fall, she knew Spike would be there to catch her.

Joyce backed away from the silent couple and went to fetch Dawn, who was currently clearing away the breakfast things downstairs. Ever since Spike's arrival in the house, Joyce had noticed Dawn taking a more active role in the housework, especially early in the morning, no doubt thinking that it would spare her more time to spend with Spike during the day.

Standing at the top of the stairs, Joyce called down to Dawn, her voice carrying easily in the quiet house.

“Dawn?... Dawn? Can you come up here please?”

“Coming, Mom.”

Joyce waited outside the bedroom for Dawn's arrival, and for what she was sure to be an emotional reunion.

Silently sitting beside him, his hand still held in hers, Buffy listened as a few words were exchanged between the pair outside, followed by a loud squealing-sob. That was the Slayer's cue. She released Spike's hand in one moment, and turned and launched herself off the bed in the next, intercepting Dawn's breakneck rush to hug Spike.

“Dawnie, calm down, please. He's awake, but he's still hurt, OK? Be gentle.”

The brunette nodded solemnly and extracted herself from her sister's grip. She slowly and carefully moved towards the bed, towards her friend, saviour and surrogate big brother.

“Hey, Nibblet.”

That was all it took for Dawn to break down, hearing his voice, seeing his eyes open and awake. She slowly collapsed down onto him, careful to avoid his right side, and clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder, as Joyce wrapped an arm around Buffy and watched the pair.

Spike held onto Dawn as best he could with his left arm and spoke softly to the crying teenager, “'S alright, sweet bit... no worrying 'bout me, yeah? Take more than a little plunge from the high-dive t' do me in. Just bloody happy you're safe...” Spike's voice broke and he dropped his forehead against her shoulder as a sob shook his body.

Dawn shook her head against his shoulder, unable to speak, as she held on to him like he was a life-preserver and she was drowning.

Buffy wiped at her tears as she watched the vampire-- the soulless, evil monster-- weep against her sister's shoulder in relief. Again, Buffy was struck with the revelations she'd had the previous day: Spike really could love, and whether he chose it or not, he loved her sister and her mom.... and her. She was also ashamed to admit that she was slightly jealous of the ease with which the other two other Summers women interacted with William the Bloody, neither one exhibiting any awkwardness or distrust whatsoever. Buffy knew this was her fault, that she could also have had that relationship with him, just like Dawn and her mother, if she hadn't pushed him away and treated him as she had. 'Take a good look, I could've had that, and for a while now too, if I wasn't so stubborn and self righteous, if I just let myself see HIM, and not let others make up my mind for me!'

Buffy's tears came harder as she stood with her mother and watched the chipped vampire and the teenage key reunite. She cursed herself for her foolishness. She cursed herself for listening to others, particularly Angel, Xander and Giles, and letting them influence her unduly. She cursed herself for living in a black and white world when clearly she was surrounded by grey. How could she have been so blind for so long? How could her mother and sister have seen the change in Spike, seen the lightness in Spike, while all she could see was the darkness? Buffy wiped at her tears, again feeling jealous and foolish for refusing to see what had been right in front of her all along.

Finally pulling back from Dawn, Spike laid a hand on her cheek and, seemingly forgetting that others were in the room, gave voice to the thoughts that had been running through his mind since discovering that she was alive.

“I'm sorry, Bit. I tried, I really did... I ... …” Spike swallowed hard, trying to get all the emotions raging through him under control, fighting back the tears that wanted to continue to fall. “… I’m sorry. Let you down, when it counted, I did. Didn't mean t' leave ya up there alone, Bit. So bloody sorry...Would do anything t' take that back. Didn't mean to let you down, Dawn... never... ever want t' let you down... ever.”

Dawn shook her head and swiped at her tear-stained face with her fingers, swallowing back the lump in her throat. When she was finally able to speak her voice was rough and filled with emotion. “What are you talking about? You saved me, nobody else, it was you. You protected me long enough for Buffy to get to me, Spike, you did it!”

Spike sighed softly and looked at her sadly, shaking his head in disagreement. “I got beat, Dawn. That little sod pulled me off the tower. I failed. I shoulda' done more... shoulda' got you down from there. Was m' place to... promised to protect you. I’m so bloody sorry.”

Dawn opened her mouth to object, but Spike continued on, “What if it hadn't been the Slayer who got up them stairs, huh? I ballsed up, got beat by that manky lizard, and left you all alone. What if the next person up there had been the hell-bitch, or another one of her scabby minions? I made a promise to protect you, 'til the end of the world, and I broke it. So... I’m sorry, Niblett.”

By the time Spike had finished, tears were again streaming freely from those azure eyes Buffy had missed so badly, and running slowly down his cheeks, his eyes downcast in shame. He couldn't look at Dawn; he couldn't deal with her misplaced pride in him, when deep down, he knew he'd failed her, failed Buffy...failed them all.

Buffy turned to her mother with disbelief plastered over her face; he really thought that, thought that he'd failed Dawn and her. Buffy had hoped to see some agreement in her mother's expression, confirming that Joyce also thought that Spike was wrong; she was not prepared to see the seething anger on her mother's face. Stepping forward, Buffy laid a hand on Dawn's shoulder and pulled her back, leaving Spike to the tender mercies of her very pissed off mother.

Feeling the bed shift in weight as Dawn stood and backed away, and sensing movement, Spike raised his shimmering eyes, only to find himself confronted by a very unhappy-looking Joyce.

Spike braced himself for the rebuke he knew was coming. He'd failed her... he'd not protected her daughters. Joyce had never been anything but kind to him, and he'd let her down. If she staked him where he lay it wouldn't be too severe a punishment. He was a pathetic excuse for a vampire, and an even more miserable excuse for a man.

“Now you listen to me, William, 'cos I’m not gonna say this twice,” Joyce began harshly, shaking a finger in his face for emphasis. “You will NOT say that again, do you hear me? Buffy and Dawn are alive because of you, because of what you did that night. You saved them, and the world, so I DO NOT want to hear you speak like that again, understand? There will not be another apology from your lips-- not to me, not to Dawn, not to Buffy … not to anyone. ”

Spike looked at Joyce in shock and awe, completely taken aback by her fierce insistence that he hadn't failed them. Turning wide, glimmering eyes to look at Buffy, she gave him a weak, watery smile and nodded her head in agreement.

“Okay then, now that that nonsense has been settled, Spike you need blood, so if you'll excuse me, I’ll go to the butcher's and get some.”

Turning to leave, Joyce pulled Dawn with her towards the door and spoke firmly, leaving no room for argument, her words clearly audible to the room at large, taking into account Slayer and vampire hearing.

“He stays in bed, and you let him rest for now, no hugging him while he's hurt, and no bothering him, alright? He needs to rest; he doesn't need you pestering him, am I making myself clear? ”

Dawn nodded sheepishly as Joyce gave her one last hard glare, then headed down the stairs. Dawn had planned to spend the day talking to Spike about anything and everything she could think of, and reassuring him that he hadn't failed her. Those thoughts were dashed, however, when she turned back to the pair of blondes in the room. Nothing needed to be said. Dawn knew that Spike wanted to spend time with Buffy, even in his current state, and maybe, just maybe, Buffy wanted to spend some time with Spike. Smiling at the pair, she followed after her mother, intending to catch her at the car, leaving the two heroes to themselves.

Spike kept his eyes on Buffy, he couldn't resist, she was so beautiful, he could spend days just looking at her. So lost was he in his thoughts of her he almost didn't hear her words when she spoke to him.

“Mom's right, you know? You did save her, and the world....Thank you, Spike.”

“Was just trying to keep my promise, Buffy. Swore to you I’d protect her... did what I could... still not sure it was good enough. Reckon we're all still here, so that has to count, yeah?” He added a small smile at the end, trying to soften his words and distract her from the self-deprecating tone.

Taking a seat on the bed next to him, and reaching for his left hand, she looked straight into his eyes, those blue eyes that she'd thought about yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, every day since that night. Those azure orbs still glistened with unshed tears; his cheeks were still damp with his guilt for not protecting Dawn as he'd promised.

Buffy reached out and gently wiped the tears from his cheeks with her fingers, careful not to reopen any wounds. “You made me a promise, and you kept it, Spike. What you did was good enough, believe me... it was more than anyone else could have done. I don't even want to think about what I owe you, or how to repay you.”

The second that phrase was out of her mouth, she knew it was a mistake. She knew that Spike would take it and run with it, but the difference this time was it was now something slightly funny and flirty, and since her recent revelations, flirting with Spike wasn't so nauseating, gut churning or guilt inducing.

Looking back, she knew now the nausea and gut churning were actually caused by the anxiety of thinking about how her friends would react, and the guilt stemmed from the fact that she, kinda, almost, deep down, enjoyed the flirtation and back and forth they had. That enjoyment was...wrong. Or she had thought so then... the Slayer shouldn't enjoy flirting with the evil undead, with a soulless monster, with darkness. But now Buffy could finally see what her mother and sister saw, she could see the light, even if the darkness was still there. Spike was the only guy she'd met that could match her, wit for wit and barb for barb, and she finally admitted to herself, she liked the dance they did.

Even with these thoughts running through her head at a mile a minute, she didn't miss the suggestive waggle of his eyebrows and the slow grin that came to his face at the talk of her being indebted to him and the prospect of repayment.

So it was with a small, light smile and giggle, she told him to get his mind out of the gutter, which earned her an even wider grin.

“And how would you know where my mind was, eh? Unless you were in the gutter with me. And if you were, I’d like to hear about it, in detail! Start with what you were wearing... or not wearing. 'm partial to that short, silky skirt with the slit up your thigh... and that glittery pink top... ya know, the one with the baubles that sparkle when ya move...”

Buffy rolled her eyes and huffed out a disgusted breath, but for the first time there was actually a small smile on her lips rather than the scowl he would've normally received for such a remark. “No preference on shoes? Panties? Hair style?” she teased back, quirking a brow at him.

“Well, now that ya mention it, always got a preference on your knickers, luv: off. Hair, Goldilocks? Always down, love to watch it flow as you move. And shoes....” Spike furrowed his brow in deep thought for a moment. “Reckon I could leave them up to you, kitten, can't have me making all the decisions now, can we?”

“You're a pig, Spike,” Buffy shot back, but her tone was teasing and light and she couldn't stop the smile that graced her features. Spike was back! Maybe she wasn't too late after all.

Spike tried adjusting his position, sitting up slightly more than he was, and let out a grunt and hiss of pain as he felt his broken ribs grate together at the movement. Once again his left arm clutched his injured side as he finally took stock of his current situation.

Buffy's smile faded and her next retort to his comments died on her lips as she leaned forward and tried to help him. “You probably shouldn't try to move too much... as in: not at all.”

“Feels like I’m pretty banged up, luv, how long have I been here?”

“Four days, and trust me, you're a lot better than you were. You got messed up pretty bad when you fell, but you're healing now, so it shouldn't be too long and you'll be back on your feet. You need to take it easy though... like Mom said.”

Spike studied the slayer. Something was different about her, but what was it? She'd seemed almost playful a moment ago, even tender towards him, but now she was all business again, stoic and subdued; her moment of forgetting who, or more accurately what he was apparently past. His cheek tingled where she'd wiped his tears away, but now she wasn't touching him any longer. She sat on the chair near the bed her hands folded primly in her lap, her eyes downcast. He wished she'd touch him again... smile again. Her smile would do more to heal him than all the blood in the world.

Spike nodded, taking it all in. Four days being taken care of by the Slayer's family, but soon he'd be able to function on his own, then, back to the crypt and probably forgotten about until the next apocalypse. He knew Dawn and Joyce would still welcome him in their lives, but the rest of the gang? He was just the hired muscle and harmless pet vamp they seemed to have adopted! And what about Buffy? He'd failed her, regardless of her words or Joyce's, he knew that he'd failed. Buffy'd be in her rights to toss him out, to never trust him. He'd not kept his promise.

As he tried to process everything, Buffy began to speak, telling him about that night, about everything that had happened after Spike had failed to save Dawn. Spike listened and nodded appropriately, but his heart was breaking-- the small amount of lightness, of camaraderie, had definitely passed. She was back to business; back to the Slayer and her pet vampire.

By the time Joyce and Dawn had returned from the butchers, Buffy had filled Spike in on the events of that night following his fall from the tower and what had happened in the days following, leaving out the orgasm incident and some of the personal revelations she had experienced.

While Buffy had no doubt that Spike still loved her, she thought it best to give him some time before sharing some of the things she had decided, and the fact that it gave her more time to think about things was an added bonus.

If she was going to give Spike and herself a chance at a relationship, she wanted to start the thing properly, and slowly. She really wanted to bounce the whole idea around with her mother and sister first, too, as they would be the ones most likely, in her opinion, to give her an objective view of things, sans any bias or preconceptions.

And so it was, that evening, with Spike asleep upstairs that Buffy first voiced her idea of her and Spike as a couple to her mother and sister.

Dawn's reaction was as expected, elated excitement at the thought that Spike would finally get what he wanted, and her firm belief that he could make Buffy happy, something, in her opinion, her sister had been seriously lacking since forever!

Joyce's reaction was more measured, but no less encouraging, stating that if that was what Buffy wanted, then she would support her, and, as long as she was happy, that was all that mattered, regardless of who that person was. Joyce did admit to being relieved that Buffy had finally stopped denying the fact that Spike could love. That was something that Joyce had known for a very long time, since she first shared hot cocoa with him after Dru had dumped him. Joyce also pointed out that Buffy would now have a slaying companion, someone that could watch her back and actually be of help to her.

“At least Spike knows how to take care of himself, so you won't be constantly worried about him, like you were with Riley, and he'll actually help you, rather than just watch, like Angel,” Joyce said with conviction, much to the surprise of her daughter.

“How did you know....?”

“Spike told me,” Joyce stated flatly, but continued on before Buffy could voice her objection. “And don't get mad at him; I asked! You never tell me anything about your slaying. I know you don't want me to worry, but I need to know, Buffy. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on.

“And don't think for one minute that he was telling me lies about them. I know he told me the truth. Spike is a terrible liar, at least when it comes to lying to me. I can always tell. Unless you're gonna tell me now that what he said wasn't true. Were you not worried about Riley? Did Angel not really help you patrol?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, but looked at her mother with a somewhat reluctant smile. “No, Spike wasn't lying about them, Angel didn't help...well, not much, and I was worried about Riley.”

Joyce nodded knowingly. “So, what's your next step gonna be? Are you going to tell Spike? Because, well, I would like to speak to him also, I want him to know, he can count on me, you both can, to support you. I’m guessing that Xander and Giles will NOT take this well, and if necessary, I’ll have words with them. I can't see those two having any reasonable objections once I’m done with them!”

Buffy laughed at her mother's protective streak, and how quickly and deeply Spike had been drawn into it. “Yeah, next step is talk to Spike, and see what he has to say. I mean, for all I know, he might not be interested anymore...or not interested in a relationship.”

At this statement Dawn, who, after her initial outburst, had been keeping relatively quiet, letting Buffy and Joyce hash out the important, emotional and practical sides to the situation, almost fell off her chair, she was laughing so hard.

Once she had calmed down enough to speak, she let Buffy know, with no doubt what she thought.

“How dumb can you be?? Do you honestly think that Spike wouldn't want to be with you, Buffy? Do you seriously think he's gonna reject you? God, how thick can you get?!”

It was at this point that Joyce gave a sigh and left her two daughters to good-naturedly argue in the kitchen as she headed to bed. It Looked like tomorrow was going to be an eventful day.

 

 

CHAPTER SEVEN:

 

It was with some trepidation that Buffy stood outside her mother's room, about to visit Spike the following morning. She was sure, as much as she could be, that she wanted to be with Spike, to give him a chance. Despite her mother's encouragement and Dawn's assurances, Buffy still wasn't completely sure he'd want to give her a chance. After all, she'd pretty much treated him like... well, like a monster, like something she'd wiped off the bottom of her shoe. She had to wonder how he could still want her after all she'd put him through.

Also in the back of her mind was the niggling worry that she just wasn't good girlfriend material. She only had to look at her last two boyfriends and how horribly those relationships had turned out for proof of that. Her anxiety about any kind of romantic connection had grown steadily since her relationships with Angel and Riley had imploded, leaving her insecure and anxious about trying again. Luckily, the support of her mother and sister made her feel a bit better, and made the prospect less daunting than it could have been.

 

As Buffy stood outside the door, trying to steel her nerve, her inner voice started its too-familiar chant of doubt.

 

'What if he doesn't want me anymore, what if I’ve left it too late? What if I’ve treated him too horribly to be forgiven? What if I can't live up to the image he has in his mind? He's been in love with me for a long time, long enough to build me up as everything he wants, that's a lot to live up to! What if I’m just not good enough?'

 

Buffy closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, calling on her mother's words of encouragement to shut the negative voice up. She thought of Spike, remembering the lengths to which he had gone, the sacrifices he had made for her, the prices he willingly paid, for her, for her family. Surely he wouldn't have done that if he didn't love her... would he?

 

Buffy suddenly wished her mom was here, standing next to her, reassuring her again, helping her calm the wasps that were buzzing in her stomach, threatening to sting her any moment. But, her mother wasn't here. No one was here but her and Spike. Joyce, having talked to Buffy before breakfast, had established that today was the day that Spike and Buffy would discuss what they meant to each other. She had wisely volunteered to clear out of the house, taking Dawn with her to the mall for an impromptu shopping trip. Initially, Joyce had resisted the shopping aspect of the trip, they weren't terribly strapped for money, but they weren't rolling in it either, and it was a bit early for back-to-school shopping. But, Buffy assured her mom that, after talking to Spike about … personal things, that she'd bring up the topic of his gift to the Summers family. With that generous gift, money would really be no issue at all. They were living comfortably as it was, that was obvious, but, if the generosity of Spike was accepted, then money worries would be a thing of the past.

 

So it was, with the house empty, Buffy took one more deep breath, let it out slowly, and pressed her doubts away. Resolved, she pushed open the door and went inside, closing it behind her.

As she walked slowly into the room, she took in his form, lying on the bed, still battered, bruised and broken, but thankfully on the mend. She again steeled herself for the conversation that could change what they were to each other, forever.

 

“Spike? You awake?”

 

Spike shifted slightly and made the slow move to sit up, wincing as his broken and shattered ribs protested and grated against each other.

 

“Yeah, pet, I’m up, what d'ya need?”

 

She crossed to the bed quickly, before he'd completed his slow, painful rise, and gently eased him back down.

 

“No, no, stay there, just lie back, I just wanted to talk, that OK?”

 

He smiled at her, being aware that it was just two of them in the house, having heard Joyce and the bit leave a short while ago. He was pleased that she would choose to spend time with him. There's no way he would turn her away, not for blood or money.

 

“Sure, luv, what's rattling 'round in that lovely noggin' o' yours?”

 

Oh shit, this was it. Now came the talking … with the words and sentences and all that crazy stuff. She so wasn't good at this. The wasps started buzzing in her stomach again as she tried to remember the words she'd practiced … but they eluded her. She'll just have to wing it.

 

“OK... so here's the thing,” Buffy began as she got up off the bed and began pacing slowly, hoping the movement of her feet would somehow spur her brain into action and let her say the things that she wanted to say.

 

“While you've been here, some things have happened to me, good things … I think good things, and I need to talk to you about them.... I just don't know how to say them.”

 

Spike watched her curiously, trying to read her face, see what was going on behind those deep, beautiful eyes of hers. Something had obviously unsettled her, she seemed tense and nervous.... beyond that, he didn't have a clue.

 

“Right then. Well, reckon you've got a captive audience, luv, what with me barely able to move and all. Just come out and say whatever it is that's got you all wound up. You can pretty much tell me anything, not gonna bite your head off … chipped remember?” Spike tried to joke to lighten her mood.

 

Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes as she paced back and forth, wringing her hands nervously. If it was only that easy! She took a deep breath and steeled her nerve again, again pressing her doubts and insecurities back down. “OK, before I tell you, I want to make this clear, I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I’ve spoken to Dawn and Mom, and they both agree with me, so now... well, it's your turn I guess.”

 

Spike tilted his head and studied her, realization slowly dawning on him. “Buffy?” he asked softly, a tremor of grim comprehension tingeing the single word.

 

She stopped pacing and looked at him, meeting his eyes. Spike's eyes bored into hers like azure lasers, delving beneath the surface with an intensity he could swear she could physically feel.

 

“Whatever it is, you can tell me, pet, but think I’ve sussed it out already.”

 

“You have?” Buffy asked anxiously, chewing on her bottom lip. The way he was looking at her made those wasps begin stinging her belly. Oh, no … she was too late. She'd treated him too badly for too long. Mom and Dawn had been wrong, He didn't want her anymore … she could see it in his eyes; they were burning her, burning her with his disdain. She felt hot tears sting the back of her eyes and her breath caught in her throat as she waited … waited for the words she knew were coming: 'I don't want you. I don't love you.'

 

“Yeah, I think so. You, bit and Joyce think it's time for me to leave, yeah? Now that I’m sort of on the mend, that I should go back to my crypt, right? I’m guessing the watcher and whelp have been bending all your ears 'bout letting me stay 'ere, and now that I’m almost back on my feet, they want me gone. That about cover it?”

 

Buffy stared at him, thinking for a moment that she'd misunderstood him. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, trying to let his words fully register in her brain. The sad acceptance on his face, the look in his eyes, almost like he'd been expecting this, made her bristle with indignation. He honestly thought, after all he had done, that she and her family would just kick him to the curb once they knew he would survive!

 

Her anxious worry suddenly turned into indignant anger. “WHAT?! NO! How could you think that? Why would you think that? Jesus, Spike! You really think we'd do that?”

 

Spike's brows rose nearly into his hairline, his eyes widening in surprise at her vehement denial.

 

“Well, if it's not that, then what?... I can't think of anything else.”

 

Buffy's anger faded at the confused look on his face … of course he'd think that. What else would he think based on the years of abuse she'd doled out to him? Buffy took a deep breath, trying to calm back down, to settle her nerves and kill those damn wasps that kept buzzing in her stomach.

 

She tried to dip into the pool of courage she used every night as the slayer to defeat her anxiety, to allay her insecurities. This was different though, the courage she had for fighting and surviving was an instinctual thing, something that came to her without effort or thought. This … this, was a different kind of courage that she needed now. This was personal; this was the girl, not the slayer. She could slay demons and vampires until the cows came home, and then she could even slay the cows, but slaying her own internal demons seemed beyond her grasp.

 

Spike watched Buffy's face, watched her fight her emotions, watched her expression turn from angry back to apprehensive and worried again. He could usually read her … he prided himself on seeing the truth of people, but he was lost now. He had no idea what she was trying to say to him.

 

“Buffy, luv,” he cajoled at last. “Just tell me, pet.”

 

Buffy refocused her apprehensive eyes on his confused ones and took a deep breath. She only needed … twenty seconds. Twenty seconds of insane courage, twenty seconds of embarrassing bravery to get through this. Twenty seconds of strength could change everything. She could do it … twenty seconds … she could do it.

 

“OK, I want you to listen to me, and don't interrupt until I’m finished. I don't need you derailing my thought train and sending it bouncing off over the prairie like a giant possessed snake … only, you know, one made out of train, with segments that all accordion up and crash and burn and ...”

 

Again, Spike brows lifted in surprise as he listened to her prattle away. Wow … she only did this when she was really nervous.

 

“... and send the buffalo all scattering out of the way … 'Cos my thought train is one of those old ones, ya know … like in the old west with the smoke and all the Indians, uh, I mean … Native Americans chasing it and... buffalo... or are they bison? I never can figure out the difference... but, you know, like in that movie... what was that movie?” she pondered, her brow furrowing in thought. When she saw the slightly amused look on Spike's face and his raised brows, she sighed and stopped talking, realizing she'd been rambling.

 

Buffy took another deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing herself to simply calm down. “Just … don't interrupt until I’m done, okay?”

 

Spike just nodded and waited, clearly acknowledging her request.

 

“I don't know where to start with this, you know I’m horrible with words, except when I get diarrhoea of the mouth... which is a great visual... geez, Buffy! Okay! Forget that! Here's the thing... I’ve had some pretty important things pointed out to me over the last few days and they've made me realise things that I should have realised a long time ago. You remember that night, before the tower, when you told me that you knew you were a monster and that I would never love you?”

 

Spike just nodded, watching her intensely. He had no clue where she was going with this, but was prepared to let her get there her way: on her meandering train, through the Indians and bison and across the prattling prairie.

 

“You were wrong. You're not a monster, Spike. It took me a while to figure it out, but you're not. A monster wouldn't have saved my sister that night, regardless of whether you think you failed or not. You tried, and in the end, you did your best and Dawn's still alive because of you. You endured torture at the hands of a god, fought beside me and protected my sister. A monster wouldn't have done that. You were wrong,” she repeated. That part felt familiar and comfortable. Spike was wrong. She clung to that little sliver of normality, drawing strength from it, courage.

 

Buffy forced a smile to her lips, trying to keep her tears at bay as her emotions welled inside her. Thinking of everything he'd done for her was one thing; to lay them all out in the open between them was something else.

 

Spike tried to take all her words in and make some sense of them. Just what exactly was she trying to say? He was wrong. Well, wouldn't be the first time she thought him wrong, but wrong about what? About being a monster? About her never being able to love him? Did he dare allow her garbled words to light a spark of hope in his heart? Did she have any idea how easily that spark could dust him if she pulled the hope away from him again?

 

“I found out from Mom that you've been playing bodyguard for her too; having coffee with her on her late nights at the gallery, and making sure that she gets home safe. Hell, you go down there and keep her company when she's alone, that's more than I do! You protected my family the best way you know how, and you did it without me knowing, so you couldn't even take the credit for it. That's not how a monster behaves, Spike.”

 

Spike swallowed hard and blinked back emotions that had suddenly blurred his vision. He wasn't a monster. Buffy... the Slayer said he's not a monster. Spike's unnecessary breath caught in his chest. Did that mean that... could she ever.... was it possible...? He dared not let hope spark in his heart for more; it would kill him.

 

Buffy took another breath, thankful that Spike, for once, was doing as she asked and staying quiet. Her twenty seconds of bravery were up... but she still had so much more to say. Twenty more seconds... she did it once, she could do it again.

 

Buffy reached out and took his cool hand in her hot, sweaty ones, meeting his gaze, looking directly into his eyes. She needed the importance of these things, and others yet to come, to be perfectly clear to him.

 

Keeping her eyes on his she continued, “And you watch my back, whether I want you to or not, when I'm patrolling. I know I’m not always grateful... okay, never grateful...” she admitted at Spike's sceptical look. “...but you still do it, you still try and help me, even when I didn't want you to.”

 

Spike couldn't hold it in any longer, he had to say something, even if it was a few simple words, they still needed to be said.

 

“Know you don't want to hear it, Buffy, but I do love you. What else am I supposed to do?”

 

Buffy felt her heart leap in her chest, then begin thudding against her ribs. The wasps in her stomach morphed into excited butterflies, fluttering wildly inside her. She gripped Spike's hand harder as she felt relief wash over her... maybe she wasn't too late after all.

 

“That's what this is all about Spike... this... this talk... with the words and the trains and all. I... I do believe you, when you say you love me. That's what all these revelations the last few days have been about. I know you love me, I believe you love me, after all you've done, how could I not? We got the letter, Spike. Mom got it the morning after the tower. For you to do something like that, write something like that, after everything I’d done to you... I know you love me.”

 

Spike was looking into her eyes as she spoke, but he could barely believe what he was hearing. That spark of hope that he'd been pushing away leapt to life in his heart. He couldn't stop it... couldn't fight it another moment. She was just too close, holding his hand too tightly, looking into his eyes too earnestly, telling him she believed him, telling him he wasn't a monster.

 

Spike swallowed and forced himself to draw in a breath, trying to steady his voice. It didn't completely work; he could still hear a bit of emotional tremble tinge his words. He hoped she didn't notice. “S-so, are you going to accept it? The cash, I mean? I want you to have it, and like I said, it's all above board, no shady dealings or stolen stuff. It's all mine, and it should set you, Joyce and Dawn up for a long time, life even, if you don't go crazy with it.”

 

Buffy nodded and took a breath also, trying to calm her nerves before she spoke. “If you're really, really sure you want us to have it... are you really super-sure? That's a lot of money, Spike. And I know when you did it you thought--”

 

“I'm sure,” Spike interrupted her. “I've never had need of it, have I? Never touched a bloody penny of it. Could mean a lot t' you, the bit and your mum, yeah? Could really... help. Would be... fitting, I reckon. My mum would've been...” Spike cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I'm sure,” he asserted again.

 

Buffy quickly blinked back more salty tears and nodded again. “Then, yes. As long as you're uber-sure. Mom, Dawn and I have talked about it, and if that's what you really want then... yes. Mom and Dawn both want to talk to you about it too. It's really an amazing gift for us, Spike. Thank you.”

 

She leaned in and placed a chaste, gentle kiss to his lips, much like she had done under the guise of the Buffy-bot, as a thank you after the torture he had suffered at the hand of Glory. She pulled back to see the shocked expression on his face and couldn't help the smile that came to her lips.

 

Buffy's lips on his made that spark of hope inside him ignite as if she'd poured petrol on it. Spike felt joy and fear and surprise and trepidation and excitement all battle for control of his emotions. He'd been dead for over a century, and yet, at this moment he felt surprisingly alive. Words escaped him; he suddenly felt like William again, shy and unsure... but so full of hope and love... and... God, if she took that away from him...

 

Spike shifted uncomfortably, his eyes leaving hers, suddenly unsure of what to say or do, suddenly afraid that he'd read too much into her words and actions. This was Buffy. This was the Slayer. He was nothing but a soulless creature of the night... perhaps not a monster, but certainly not a man. His chest tightened painfully... he'd been foolish to allow that hope to spark and burn inside him.

 

“There's something else, too. It's.... it's.... ….”

 

Spike's eyes darted back to hers. He was sure he could feel his heart thudding against his ribcage... threatening to break them, threatening to dust him. “Buffy?”

 

Now it was Buffy's turn to shift her eyes from his ardent gaze, though she never let go of his hand. Twenty seconds... could she do it again? Maybe just... just three seconds of bravery... that was all she could manage now. She bravely lifted her gaze back to his before summoning every ounce of courage she had left.“I want to try, Spike. You and me. I want to be with you. I want to give us a chance.”

 

Silence.

 

Buffy's tremulous breathing was the only sound in the room. It was almost as of they'd both been frozen in place, neither moving, their eyes locked on each other's, green on blue, unwavering, unblinking. Outside, the world continued... birds sang, a dog barked, cars rolled by on the pavement, but in here, everything had stopped.

 

Spike couldn't believe it. He was afraid to believe it. He couldn't take it all in, process it. Buffy had just told him she wanted him, to try with him. For there to be an us.

 

“Spike? Say something... anything.”

 

Spike closed his eyes, breaking the connection, willing his brain and mouth to start working from the same page. It was too much; he'd just been given everything he wanted. Buffy had told him she wanted to be with him. The spark of hope, for once, had not been extinguished with brutal, hurtful words. His heart, for once, had not been burned to ashes because of its foolishness.

 

“Please, say something,” Buffy begged, her heart in her throat. “Tell me I didn't wait too long, that I’m not too late.” Buffy couldn't keep her voice level as she tried to see what was going in inside that head of his, but with his eyes closed, she couldn't read him. She felt those butterflies in her stomach start to morph back into wasps. Was she too late, after all? Had she done too many horrible things for him to forgive her? Was she simply not good enough... not girlfriend material?

 

Spike let out a deep breath, opened his eyes, now shining with unshed tears. He gently pulled his hand from her grasp reached for her with his good arm. Placing a hand at the back of her neck, he pulled her down to him and kissed her. It would be a moment in his life that he swore to himself that he would remember until he dusted.

 

Buffy had expected him to say something, eventually, to give her an answer, so the scant few seconds she had since realising what he was doing were not enough to prepare her for this. The kiss was slow and gentle, but set her body aflame nonetheless. His lips caressed hers with a softness that she hadn't expected, and his movements were slow and light, changing in focus from her top lip to her bottom and back again. A sigh of contentment escaped Buffy's throat and her mouth opened around his luscious lips. A fraction of a second later, his mouth mirrored hers and then, with a gentle breath in through her nose, their tongues began a slow dance together.

 

'Oh, God, he's a good kisser, why didn't I do this sooner? He seems to know what I want before I do, so he's already there waiting for me. And it feels so right, too, like this is what I’ve been waiting to do to him since we met. How could I have been so stupid?'

 

Buffy's brain seemed as though it had disappeared into a room and locked the door. All she could do was feel, focus on the sensation of finally kissing him, his tongue in her mouth, dancing and sliding over hers, with perhaps not completely unexpected consequences happening elsewhere in her body.

 

Her hands had moved to cup his face, needing another connection as they battled, slowly, softly, gently. She could feel something like sparks or pulses travelling through her, causing muscle twitches here and bone melting there. Her nipples had pebbled in her bra, scraping the material and sending more sparks down her body to her core.

 

For the second time in three days, she knew she would need a change of underwear thanks to Spike.

Her channel throbbed, her cream flowed, and her clit pulsed in time with her heartbeat. She could feel a warmth spreading from her pussy to her lower belly and a light pressure building inside her. She clenched her muscles, tightening her core, trying to ease some of the feelings building there, but all this succeeded in doing was forcing more of her juices to flow free from her pussy, dampening her panties even more.

 

Finally, with a gasp of breath, they separated, Spike pressing his forehead against hers and taking a couple of unneeded breaths too. Placing another light kiss to her lips, he pulled back to look at her in all her flushed glory.

 

“You're not too late, Buffy. I love you, you know that, or you should by now, just needed some time to process, that's all. I... you... you really want to try... with me?”

 

Buffy smiled at him and nodded, still feeling slightly dazed in the most pleasant of ways, as her brain tried to regain its normal function. The fear and anxiety that had been buzzing inside her had been melted away as well, both by his kiss and his words. She wasn't too late. He did still love her. Taking another unsteady breath, she tried to continue on from where she had left off before the brain-melting kiss. She'd been talking about something... it was important. What was it?

 

Buffy shook her head to clear away the dreamy fog... not that she really wanted it cleared, but she was sure there was more she'd wanted to say. Finally, it came to her. “I... I do want to try... with you. I wasn't sure if you'd still want to, Spike. I... I’m really glad I’m not too late.”

 

Buffy took another breath, the other things she wanted to say coming back to her. “I want us to try, Spike, but I also want us to go slow, to really try and build something, for both of us. That OK with you?”

 

Spike was suddenly more animated than she'd seen him in days. His blue eyes glittered and a little-boy grin spread across his face “Are you kidding?? You've just told me I can everything I’ve ever dreamed of! It's more than OK, it's bloody brilliant! We do this your way, Buffy, understand? I don't want to do anything that could screw this up, so you set the rules, pet, and I’ll follow them.”

 

She smiled again; even let a little chuckle escape her lips at his enthusiasm. 'Why did I wait so long for this?'

“OK, well, Dawn and Mom already know about this, about me talking to you... of course they didn't know what you'd say. Well... OK, maybe they did, but not for sure, right? 'Cos, well, how could they know for sure until you'd said it... and... I’m rambling again.” Buffy took another breath, only this time it calmed her glee, her excitement. Her heart was racing, not from fear or anxiety now, but rather from exhilaration. “OK, so the next step is gonna be telling everyone else, but I want you to understand, they don't get a say in this. What we choose to do is our business, no one else’s, and seeing as how Mom and Dawn are on-board already, I have all the support that really matters to me.”

 

“You sure about that, pet? Reckon I know better than anyone what your little Scooby-pals mean to you. Seems t' me what they think has always been right important to ya. I can't see the watcher or the whelp throwing us a bloody parade when they hear the news.”

 

Buffy took his hand in hers, looked into his concerned, blue eyes, and spoke with an air of resolve and determination.

 

“They don't get a say. For once, I’m gonna do what I want to do, and not let them talk me out of it. If they're my friends, they'll respect my decision, just like I've respected theirs over the years. And, anyway, I don't need a parade... they don't throw chocolate, just those lame Jolly Ranchers... what the hell kinda name is that for a candy, anyway? Seems kinda....kinky. Eating a Jolly Rancher... has to make you wonder why the rancher is so jolly, doesn't it? ”

 

Spike laughed and shook his head. “You got a bloody good way o' looking at the world, luv. Never thought o' that, myself.”

 

Buffy shrugged. “I'm full of all sorts of surprises,” she assured him. Lying down beside him, she pressed herself against his left side, his uninjured side, and placed a gentle kiss to his lips.

 

“C'mon, rest, we need to get you back on your feet. There's supposed to be a celebratory dinner once you're up and about again. We saved the world, remember? Well, you saved the world, this time, we just helped. So c'mon, you get some sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

Spike closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling of having Buffy so close to him and trying to calm his racing mind. She was going to give him a chance, give them a chance. He couldn't stop that spark of hope that had been burning in his chest from setting off a joyful barrage of brilliant, sparkling fireworks in his heart. It was almost too much for him to take in; he almost thought he was dreaming. 'I suppose I'll find out when I wake up, and she's still here, won't I?'

“I love you, Buffy.”

“I know, Spike, I know. Now, sleep. I’ll be here, I promise.”

So it was, that when Joyce and Dawn came home later in the day, they found the pair, curled around each-other, asleep.

Joyce stood in the doorway, observing the two, smiling to herself. It seemed as though Buffy had managed to get Spike to listen to her, and that, for once, her daughter was going to take her happiness in hand and do what she wanted to do, regardless of her friends' opinions. Pulling the door closed, they left the slumbering pair to their peaceful dreams and each other.

CHAPTER EIGHT:

The morning came to find the three Summers women having breakfast, an air of tension palpable in the quiet. Yesterday, the decision had been made that today was the day that Buffy would talk to her friends and reveal to them the choices she had made about Spike and her feelings for him.

Buffy had to admit, she was not looking forward to the prospect of laying herself open to their judgements. The result being, when she had voiced this fear to her mother yesterday evening over dinner, it was decided that, while Dawn stayed home and kept a watchful eye on Spike, Joyce would accompany Buffy to the Magic Box. Joyce had already said to her that she would not get involved if Buffy didn't want her to, but would be there simply for support and as a friendly face.

Joyce, however, was under no illusions as to whether she would have to make her presence felt. Remembering Xander's attitude towards Spike the night this all began, she could not shake the feeling that he would object vehemently. This had caused her maternal hackles to rise ferociously.

'How dare he think that he can dictate to my daughter who she can be friends, or potentially, more than friends, with!'

She was going to make sure that she left both Xander and Giles under no delusions whatsoever as to whether they had any say in Buffy's personal life. Her daughter had had to sacrifice a lot in her life, and so help her, she would not allow someone else to rob Buffy of the chance of a little happiness. Not on her watch!

Dawn had wisely decided to keep quiet this morning. It was obvious to her that both her mother and sister were deep in thought, probably considering what was to come later today. She would have liked to come along with the both of them, if only to see her mom put Xander and Giles in their places, but realised that maybe she could do more by volunteering to stay with Spike and promise to take care of him. This, at least, would be one thing less for Buffy to worry about and, she got to spend the day with Spike, even if it was just sitting with him, reading, while he slept.

Dawn also had to admit to herself, after Buffy had announced to her and her mom that she wanted to give Spike a chance with her, she had felt a small spark of jealousy prickle her skin. She was under no false hope that she actually had a chance with Spike. After all, he was hopelessly in love with her sister, but still... Buffy's decision was forcing her to let go of a dream that she would have liked to have kept for a while longer.

Maybe it was the first sign that she was truly growing up, but, knowing that Spike and Buffy could have a chance at being together made Dawn smile. She loved her sister, and, of course, Spike was a hottie, so it stirred in her a kind of misplaced sense of pride that her sister would be able to snag that male, salty goodness for herself. Better Buffy than some random skank! And Dawn knew how much it would mean to Spike to actually be with her sister, and that was something she would not deny him, not for anything. Smiling on the inside at the maturity she knew she was displaying, and knowing that no-one else would know of her sacrifices, she turned her focus back to her breakfast.

Buffy, on the other hand, was not fairing as well as her mother or sister. The upcoming meeting with her friends was most definitely responsible for the mixture of butterflies and wasps currently setting up residence in her stomach. She wasn't going to change her mind, but the anxiety she was feeling was causing her to go over the things she had learned in the last few days over and over again. She didn't love Spike, she knew that. She also knew that no-one else in her life had given as much as he had, was prepared to give as much as he was, when it came to her. The person that came closest was her mother. What did that say about him, about how he felt about her? She couldn't ignore it any longer; she didn't want to ignore it any longer. This man had given, sacrificed, and paid in blood and pain, for her and the protection of her family.

'He loves me, it's that simple to him... he loves me.'

So she knew she didn't love him, but, she thought, even hoped, she could one day. After everything was said and done, that was what he deserved. If she was completely honest with herself, something she was being forced to do more and more these last few days, she could see herself loving him, really and truly loving him. He was physically attractive, that was a given. She'd always seen the hotness that was Spike, from their first encounter in that alley behind the Bronze. But it went deeper than that. She'd seen his capacity for love and affection with others. He had shown his heart to the whole world as he wore it proudly on his sleeve, and he made no attempt to hide it when it was bleeding.

Several smaller things now stood out to her as she viewed them with hindsight, like his affection for Tara. Someone who had shown him acceptance and a small amount of friendly affection. This had resulted in a slight protective streak that she was sure would continue to develop. His capacity to care for her sister and mother was completely beyond question and doubt. All of these things had combined to show Buffy that Spike truly could love and care, even without his soul, and in that respect, as far as she knew, he was completely unique.... one of a kind. She'd wondered whether soulless vampires could love, and thought maybe they could for purely selfish reasons, but Spike loved selflessly. Spike loved even when he shouldn't, and all it did was cause him pain-- both physically and emotionally.

'And he loves me. A totally unique being, a vampire that can truly love, has fallen in love with me!'

There was also the fact that Spike was her equal, and had no problem with the fact that Buffy was stronger than he was. That was the way vampires and Slayers were. She was stronger, but he was faster, thus maintaining the balance and, whether she would admit it or not, he was a more skilled fighter than she was. She'd seen him fight many demons since his chip had been implanted and had picked up on at least a dozen fighting styles that he had never used in battle against her. She'd asked him about them and he'd simply shrugged it off, telling her, “Been 'round a bit longer than you 'ave pet... can't expect me not t' pick up a trick or two in me travels.”

Not long before Glory had appeared, he'd told her an unusual story that confirmed his point. She hadn't let on at the time that she thought it was quite funny, simply because of the situation he'd described. He had an odd ability to surprise her and come out with these little bits of information he'd accrued through his life, or unlife.

They'd been fighting a demon both of them were unfamiliar with, but two things had stuck out in her analysis of the creature within the first few seconds of the fight. The first was that this particular demon seemed to have a very potent alkaline or acidic liquid covering its skin, and the second was that it was very skilled with a sword. That had come as a bit of a shock to Buffy. 'Why the hell would an acid-covered demon need a sword, let alone know how to use it?!' But, equally shocking was Spike's ability with a sword.

While Buffy had been armed with a battle-axe, Spike had elected to take a Katana patrolling that night, which naturally made him the obvious choice to take on this particular opponent. Buffy's axe would have put her at a disadvantage while facing off against someone with that level of skill. And so, with Buffy watching from a short distance away, ready to step in if needed, Spike and the demon had faced off to the sound of ringing steel.

It had taken Spike at least fifteen minutes to finally defeat it. They had battled through the cemetery, each of them looking for the opening that would finish the fight. Spike found his first. His first move was a disarming strike, severing its hand cleanly at the wrist. Then, completing the down-stroke and rotating his body 180 degrees, Spike spun the blade in a full rotation, and buried it in the demon's gut, his back to it. To finish it, she now realised, with a flourish, he had twisted again, pulling the blade free and proceeded to swing it through a horizontal arc that decapitated it. It was quite the display of swordsmanship and, when pressed about it, Spike had simply shrugged but furnished her with an answer so implausible that it could actually be true.

“Told ya before pet, been around for a while now, and done a fair bit of travellin' round. Reckon I’ve seen the whole world at least twice.”

“That doesn't really explain those moves, Spike. I mean... you just went all kung-fu-ninja-bad-ass on him! C'mon spill!” Buffy had pressed.

Spike rolled his eyes as he picked a handful of leaves off a nearby tree and used them to clean the corrosive blood from his blade. “You seen that latest Star Wars movie? Episode I?”

“Yeah... Xander made us watch it on video night,” Buffy replied sceptically, not sure where he was going with this.

“Well, it just so happened that I ran into a bloke on my last trip to England by the name of Nick Gillard. He did all the fights with the Lightsabers in that movie... bloody brilliant, those were.”

Spike turned thoughtful a moment, tilting his head and looking over at Buffy questioningly. “D'ya reckon they'll ever make one? 'Cos it would make killing demons so much easier, y'know, for the nights when I can't be arsed for a proper fight.”

At Buffy's raised eyebrow he shrugged and continued on. “Anyway, seemed like a right decent fella, we got t' chatting... bought him a pint or three... Long story short... he showed me all seven of the styles that he'd come up with. Strengths, weaknesses, situations to use one or the other...the whole works.

“Don't reckon there's many people, or demons, that know how to counter 'em unless they're bloody clever, like ole Nick, so I figure, why not?”

Buffy didn't know what to say to that and had just stared at him as he returned his sword to its scabbard. She wasn't entirely sure if he was joking or not, and he hadn't acted like he was. Regardless... those moves were certainly no joke.

It was yet another thing that she had come to like about Spike. He was clearly intelligent and worldly wise, a lot like Angel in that regard, but unlike Angel, she never felt he had to talk down to her, or change the way he talked so that she could understand things. He didn't feel the need to change who he was when he was around her, and in turn she didn't feel that she needed to try to be something she wasn't. She'd always felt slightly inferior to Angel. She'd thought there was always a hint of condescension in his voice when he spoke to her, like a kind of patient acceptance in his tone, as if she couldn't fully appreciate the meaning behind what he was saying.

Not so with Spike. Whenever she'd actually let him talk to her, he didn't feel the need to put on airs with her, and they could just talk. Be it inane talk about demons, or, on the rare occasion that she would ask something historical or social that he had experienced, he'd never once spoken to her as anything but an equal, never shown any condescension just because she didn't have the same experiences he'd had.

'He talks to me, not at me. I bet I could learn so much from him, if I just let myself listen.'

Buffy was snapped out of her musing when her mother began speaking, and quickly focused her attention back on the present. This, of course, brought her crashing back to the reality of her situation: having to explain to her friends that she wanted to be with Spike, to try and build something solid with him, and that she was going to do this, with, or without, their permission.

Taking a quick look around the breakfast table, it appeared to her that she'd gotten away with her trip down memory lane and neither her mother nor sister were any the wiser that she'd zoned out.

“What time should we leave for the Magic Box, Buffy?”

Seeing as it was a Sunday, there would be no issue of people's work commitments, so Buffy had spread the word that she wanted everyone at the Magic Box by twelve o'clock. Her thinking being such that, if all went well, some of the day could be salvaged.

“I told everyone to be there at noon, so … about twenty or quarter to, I guess?”

“That should be fine. Is everyone going to be coming?”

“I think so, I told Willow to tell Tara, and Anya to tell Xander, and you told Giles, didn't you?”

Joyce nodded her head, having volunteered to speak to her watcher, so Buffy could avoid any interrogation as to the purpose of the meeting, and to allow Buffy and Spike more time alone together last night.

“Well then,” Joyce replied, “if that's the case, and we don't have to leave just yet, I’d like to go up and talk to Spike for a while.”

With that said, Joyce headed upstairs for a talk with Spike that she felt was overdue. With a soft knock on the door to her room and a clearly spoken, “Come in,” Joyce sat down next to Spike on her bed and smiled at the slowly healing vampire.

“I wanted to speak to you, Spike, before we left. Are you up to it, 'cos I can come back; it's nothing that won't keep to another day.”

“I'm okay, Joyce, promise. Wha' d'ya need?” Spike slowly eased himself into a sitting position, pushing the pillows as best he could so they were now supporting him as he leaned back against the headboard.

“I wanted to speak to you about the money that you told Buffy you were givi--” She stopped abruptly at Spike's raised hand and took in the hard, determined look he was giving her.

“S'already done, Joyce. No arguments, no discussion. You're having it, and you're gonna use it to make things a little easier 'round 'ere. Am I clear?” The tone in his voice clearly inferred that he was not amused, and the subject was not open to debate.

“Spike, I appreciate it but--” Again she was interrupted by the blond man on her bed.

“Stop. Listen. It's yours now. I want you to have it. I wasn't using it, haven't touched a penny or pound of it.” Spike steadied himself with a deep breath and softened his expression as he looked at the woman who had been the first to give him a chance in over a century.
“You read the letter, yeah?”

Joyce nodded in reply.

“Then you should know I meant what I wrote, Joyce. You've been the closest thing I’ve had to a mum in a hundred and twenty years. You honestly think I’m gonna give it to someone else, or leave it lying around in an account after I dust?

“You have it, use it, bloody hell, enjoy it! Use it for holidays somewhere nice, use it for Dawn and university, pay off the house, get a new car. I don't care as long as you have it and put it to good use! You're a millionaire now, and a pretty good one at that, if you take into account the exchange rate from pounds to dollars. Now, listen to your elder, and take it.”

He reached for her hands that were folded in her lap and gave them a squeeze.

“I want you to have it.” He spoke softly, his determination had faded into something more like a plea, like he was almost begging her now to take it.

Joyce could feel the tears begin to burn her eyes and she willed them not to fall. But Spike wasn't fooled for a second and pulled her into a one arm hug on his undamaged side. He spoke softly in her ear this time, the words still the same.

“I want you to have it.” Joyce noticed the subtle shift in his accent, morphing into something she guessed was more upper-class. English social classes and decorum was still something of a small mystery to her, but to her untrained ears, his words sounded more precise and spoken at a slower rate, allowing the pronunciation to come through very clearly. “I would be honoured for you to take it, and to put it to good use.”

Joyce pulled herself back and gave him a wan smile, just about the best she could manage under the circumstances. She let out a giggling sob and swiped at her eyes in embarrassment. She could barely take it all in. Sure, Buffy had told her that Spike was serious about the gift, but hearing it from him was something different. According to Spike, she was about to become a millionaire and she didn't quite know how to process it all.

It was a gift that she could never repay.

“Oh, one condition though,” Spike added as a smile came to his lips.

At Joyce's enquiring eyebrow, he continued, “If you blow through it all, you can't come asking me for more, 'cos that's all I got. So for the love of God, do not give either of them downstairs a credit card, yeah?”

Joyce's answering laugh was loud, strong and genuine. “Oh yes, you can be sure of that! I promise.”

“Right then, that's settled.”

“Thank you, Spike. Truly, thank you.”

With a nod and a smile, Spike felt a touch of warmth in his chest. Again she heard his accent slip into something more refined and elegant. “You're very welcome, Joyce.”

Joyce took a deep breath and swallowed back her tears, wiping at her eyes again as she recomposed herself. “There was something else I wanted to talk to you about, Spike. It's about today. Buffy's going to the Magic Box later and I’m going with her, but we're leaving Dawn here with you, do you think you could keep an eye on her while we're gone?”

Spike did his best to hide the trepidation he felt at those words. He knew what was going to happen today. He knew that Buffy was heading into the lion's den. He knew it was because of him, because of her choice to be with him, that she was having to tell her friends how she felt, and face the consequences.

Because of him.

He raged silently on the inside, cursing his broken body and the limitations placed on him by his vampiric status. He was not able to join her, not able to defend her in the face of her friends and their disapproval. Another failure on his part, smaller in scale to the one atop the tower, but a failure nonetheless. He could not be there for her.

The one thing he could draw hope from was that Joyce would be with Buffy and he knew, without any shadow of doubt in his mind, that if there was one person besides the Slayer that he would not want to piss off, it was Joyce Summers. He knew that when she needed to be, Joyce could call upon the maternal lioness inside her and, if the need arose, protect her child with the same ferocity.

He did not let any of this show on his face, however. It wouldn't do to invite too many questions, especially considering Joyce's talent at seeing through him and drawing the truth out of him, whether he wanted to tell her or not. So it was, with a forced smile on his face, he replied with as much enthusiasm as was appropriate.

“Sure I can, no problems there, me and the bit get on like a house on fire. She'll probably come up and read anyway.” He lowered his voice into a mock whisper. “I reckon she took your last warning about letting me rest to heart.”

Joyce gave Spike a relieved, appreciative smile. “Good, that was what I was hoping for! Anyway, once we're back, you can be relieved from your duties, but depending on how long this meeting takes, I don't know when we'll be finished.”

“Like I said, no worries. She'll be fine.”

“Thank you. Well, with that all dealt with, I’ll leave you to rest. Do you need anything while I’m here?”

“Not at the mo', thanks.”

Spike couldn't hold it in any longer, he needed to know that if nothing else, Joyce was prepared for what could possibly transpire at the meeting.

With a gentle pat to his hand, she stood and headed for the door, but stopped at the sound of his voice.

“Joyce?”

Turning on her heel, she waited, expectantly.

“It's gonna be nasty, innit? Today I mean, at the shop? They're all gonna get on her about me, aren't they?”

Joyce didn't know what he wanted to hear from her in reply. She had a suspicion that things could get ugly once Buffy had said her piece but didn't want Spike to feel like this was his fault, or that it could be helped, and she didn't want to lie to him either. In the end, she settled for something that she knew would go a long way to assuaging his worries.

“That's why I’m going to be there as well, Spike. And come hell or high water, I will not stand there and let them hurt or bully Buffy, just because they don't like or agree with her choices. On that, you have my word.”

The relief Spike felt at having his intuitions confirmed was palpable. Joyce would be there for her daughter, and that included the lioness. She was on their side, and that meant that maybe Spike's worries of her friends changing Buffy's mind would turn out to be unfounded. It was this knowledge, that Joyce was going to support Buffy in her choices regarding him, that finally let him give voice to something he needed to say to her.

Once again, Spike found himself slipping into the voice of his educated past, the voice very few people still alive knew he possessed.

“I promise you, Joyce, that I will be worthy of the trust that she's putting in me, and to love her with everything that I have, for as long as she'll have me. I will try every day, with all my heart, to be good enough for her.”

“I know you will, Spike... … ... I know you will.”

With a parting smile, she made her way back downstairs to clear away the breakfast things and talk to Dawn before they left.

()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()

Spike had obviously fallen asleep after his visit from Joyce because the next thing he knew, he was woken by Buffy's soft voice on the other side of the door.

“Come in, pet, I’m awake.”

The door eased open and in she walked. Spike couldn't take his eyes away from her as she made her way to the chair by the bed. He shifted his position slightly. Having not planned on falling asleep propped up against the headboard, his lower back was less than happy with his current stance. But even his current discomfort couldn't stop the smile that came to his lips when her eyes met his.

“I just wanted to talk, before we left.” Buffy took a breath, trying to calm the nerves that were already threatening to overwhelm her. She almost forgot that she was going to see her friends, what with the nervous wasps currently trying to find a way to escape her stomach. At least, that was what it felt like to her. Talking with friends shouldn't make someone feel like this, she thought. For all intents and purposes, the news she had to share with them should have been good. She'd found someone that could make her happy, at least that was what she hoped, and someone to share her life with, both halves, the Slayer and the woman. What was wrong with that, and why, if this was what she wanted, did she feel so anxious?

'Well, that's easy... some of my friends are hypocritical and self righteous. They want me to be happy, just as long as it's on their terms and whatever choices I make meet their approval.'

Buffy tried to shake off her nerves, or at least control them so they didn't derail her thought train again. She gave Spike what she hoped was a reassuring smile and re-focused her mind back to the present. “I just wanted to tell you something, Spike. No matter what happens today, no matter what they say, or how they feel, I will not let them make my choices for me anymore. You're my choice, and mine alone. They can't change that, OK?”

“Buffy... … I know how much your friends mean to you, pet. I love you, you know that, and that's not gonna change...ever. But I want you to know, now, that... if... if things get... too hard.... I’ll.... … I’ll understand... y'know … if you change your mind.” He quickly carried on when it looked like she was going to protest. “I don't want you to, yeah? I LOVE YOU, but, I’ll understand, if... … if.... you decide I’m not worth the trouble. It's OK to think that. Not saying I’ll be jumping for joy, but I’d understand, pet. I’ll still be here for ya, won't leave, just 'cos I didn't get m' way. Not made that way, luv. I’ll stay, if you want me to.... watch yer back, help where I can. You make the decisions, and I’ll abide by them.”

Buffy's lips were wobbling and the tears were already down to her jaw by the time he was finished.
It was all she could do to stop the sob that threatened to fall from her lips. She didn't know what to say, she couldn't take the sad acceptance in his voice and eyes as he'd spoken. Seeking to reassure him as best she could, she did the only thing her brain was capable of processing. She kissed him.

Slowly, softly, deeply, she kissed him.

Breathing in through her nose, she drew it out, not wanting to sever the connection, wanting him to take the full meaning behind this kiss. Hoping he'd figure it out. 'I’m coming back, Spike, I swear.'

“BUFFY?”

Their moment was broken. Joyce's voice carrying up the stairs brought them back to the world around them.

“BUFFY, ARE YOU READY? IT'S TIME TO LEAVE.”

“I'M COMING, MOM.”

Pressing her forehead to his, she pecked him lightly on the side of his mouth and pulled back, smiling as best she could, considering moments ago she was in tears.

“I'm coming back to you, Spike... … … I’m coming back. Promise.”

CHAPTER NINE:

The car was quiet, neither of them felt the need to talk about the upcoming occasion. Though Joyce's attention was on the road ahead, a small part of her mind couldn't forget the vow she'd earlier given to Spike. She would not allow Buffy's friends to dictate what went on in her life any longer. Buffy had to find her own path to tread, and though she might stumble along it, it was her path, no-one else's.

'I won't let you down, Spike, I made you my promise, and I’ll hold to it.'

Buffy, meanwhile, watched the world flash past her window, people going about their lives, none of them any the wiser as to how close they'd been to being destroyed. And if it wasn't for Spike, they might have been. This brought a smile to her face. 'Nobody but us knows how much we owe him, and that's something even my friends can't deny.'

All too soon, they arrived at the Magic Box and Buffy once again tried to dip into that wellspring of courage that had served her for many years in her battles and trials. She knew it was there, but she'd never really had to consciously tap into it before. It came to her in her hour of need and had not run dry yet, but this was different. This would require a different kind of courage, for her battle today was not with any demon or force of evil... it was with her friends, and it was a battle she never thought she'd have to fight.

Joyce, having stopped the car and turned the ignition off, now sat with her daughter in silence, trying to prepare herself for the confrontation she knew was to come. She once again remembered her pledge to Spike and reached for Buffy's hand. Gripping it softly, she gave it a light squeeze to draw Buffy's gaze to her own.

“I'll be right there with you, Buffy. You can do this, I know you can. No matter what they say to you in there, you'll always have me and Dawn on your side. I promise. Do you understand me? No matter what, you'll have us with you.”

“Thanks, Mom.” She let out a short nervous laugh and squeezed her mother's hand back. “God, why is this so difficult? They're supposed to be my friends, but I feel like I’m about to be on trial!”

“It'll be OK, honey, I promise. We'll go in there together, you'll tell them what they need to hear, and we'll leave together.” She fixed a look of fierce determination of her features as she looked at her daughter. “It'll be OK,” Joyce assured her eldest emphatically.

Buffy smiled as Joyce leaned over and placed a kiss on her forehead, patted her hand, still in hers and blew out a breath. “Let's go.”

Joyce preceded Buffy in to the shop and immediately headed past the sales-floor and headed for Giles' office, aiming to be as inconspicuous as possible, taking in the fact that apart from Anya, the shop appeared deserted. Being a Sunday, this was no real surprise in terms of customers, as the 'Closed' sign was firmly fixed to the door, but Joyce had thought that Buffy's friends would already be here.

The tinkling of the bell had drawn Anya's attention briefly as she looked up from the sales records she was currently perusing, but seeing it was Joyce and Buffy, she quickly focused her attention back on something, in her view, more interesting.

Giles, it seemed, had also been attracted by the Summers women's entrance as he appeared at the door that led to the basement, glasses in hand as he absently cleaned them with his handkerchief. Spotting Buffy sitting at the research table, he gave her a restrained smile and ventured down the step to take up position opposite his charge.

“Hello, Buffy, how are you? It's been a few days now, hasn't it? How's Dawn fairing in the aftermath of... things?”

Trying to delay the inevitable confrontation that was to come, she tried to keep things light and conversational. “Hey, Giles, things are good I guess, no apocalypses to deal with, and Dawn's fine, she's dealing, maybe even dealt, so, y'know, I’m all of the good. You?”

“Yes, yes, all fine thank you. I’m taking advantage of the lull in things to finally get the basement arranged in a more orderly fashion as I would like, but other than that, nothing exciting to speak of, I’m afraid.”

The opportunity to share any more of the last few days, or for Giles to begin his own interrogation to ascertain the purpose of this meeting, escaped them as the bell once again jingled, signalling the arrival of Willow, Tara and Xander.

Once again Buffy found herself having to steel her nerves at the prospect of what was to come. 'Here we go... breathe... just breathe... I can do this.' Searching the shop, her eyes finally found her mother, tucked away in the back corner that led to Giles' office. She knew what her mom was doing: she as observing and biding her time until she thought that she was needed. Until that time came, she would be a silent pillar of support for Buffy, an unseen ally to bolster her courage.

Greetings and pleasantries were exchanged as the new arrivals took their seats around the research table. Finally, once everyone had managed to find a chair and were seated at the table, except for Anya and Joyce, all eyes turned expectantly towards Buffy to see what had necessitated the meeting.

Surprisingly, it was actually Tara that broke the silence and set the ball rolling.

“B-b-before we start, c-c-can I quickly ask, Buffy, h-how's Spike doing? I-is there any change?”

Buffy's heart warmed slightly and the beginnings of a smile came to her lips, but were quickly banished by Xander's scoffing and disapproving tone.

“Seriously? We haven't seen Buffy in three days, longer in my case, and you're asking about the evil undead and his little boo-boo from his swan dive off the tower? Who cares? He's not dust, right? I wouldn't be that lucky! Can we actually move on to something that matters, like why we're here in the first place? What gives, Buff? Why the sudden call to action? There can't be another big bad in town already, right?”

Tara drew back from the table, pressing herself against the back of her chair, almost trying to get as far away from the table as possible following Xander's tirade. This, however, didn't go unnoticed by either Willow or Giles, and while Willow reached for and took Tara's hand under the table, Giles took it upon himself to speak up in defence of the timid witch.

“Xander! That's quite enough, thank you. That was totally uncalled for. Tara has as much right to speak as you do, and if she wants to enquire after Spike, then you will damn well let her, do you understand?” While Giles himself didn't particularly care as to the condition of said vampire, he would not stand idly by and let Xander run roughshod over Tara. He knew that she had trouble with speaking in public and that it stemmed from self-confidence issues, something he would not allow Xander to exploit, deliberately or not.

Looking appropriately chagrined, Xander mumbled a vague apology and proceeded to sulk, visibly unhappy at the subject of the conversation.

Buffy, meanwhile, looked over to Tara and graced her with a smile, trying to encourage her to once again be part of the group at large, rather than trying to disappear into her chair.

“He's doing much better, thanks for asking, Tara. I’ll be sure to tell him you were asking after him. He's awake now, has been for the last couple of days and he's definitely healing. Hopefully, he'll be back on his feet soon.”

Tara nodded, smiling lightly at the encouraging news about Spike. Tara knew that Spike liked her, certainly more than he liked the other Scoobies. He had told on a number of occasions that she was the 'only one of those bloody idiots' he could stand.

Buffy tried in vain to clamp down on the nervousness she was feeling and willed her voice to be strong and even when she spoke. “Well, that's kinda what I called you all here for in the first place.” 'OK, here we go. Get ready for hell!' “I’ve done some thinking over the last few days, come to some decisions that I hope you'll be able to support me in.”

She was greeted with expectant and curious faces, except for Tara, who was smiling thinly, and trying her best to cover it. She'd obviously figured out some of what Buffy wanted to tell them.

“Like I said, I’ve been all introspection-girl over the last few days and decided on a couple of things, things that I wanted you to know about.

“First up, once he's back on his feet, Spike's gonna be patrolling with me. It'll make things a little easier for me, and hopefully, we'll be able to really crack down on the demons and vamps 'round town. This means you're gonna be seeing him a lot more, and I want you to be a little nicer to him; he doesn't have to help me, but he's going to. The least we can do is give him a little respect.”

Xander scoffed at this, his expression turning more sour than it already was. “You're kidding right? Respect captain peroxide? And for what, hanging around you every night? C'mon, Buff, you know he's only doing it to try and get in your pants! The guy's evil, no two ways about it! He's just lucky you haven't staked him yet!”

Buffy rolled her eyes towards the ceiling, asking the heavens for patience and strength. “Have your last brain cells decided to abandon the sinking ship?!Do I have to remind you that he saved my sister, Xander? And the world, with what he did that night against Glory? GOD! What does he have to do, huh? All I’m asking for is for you to be civil to him, considering all he's done for me, for us, for the whole world over the last few weeks!”

Xander wouldn't be dissuaded in his vitriol, although the rest of them seemed to be open to the suggestion, at least that's what Buffy thought, judging by their expressions and lack of protests. Even Giles had managed to keep his mouth shut. But then, maybe Giles was just being practical. As far as he was concerned, Spike was harmless when it came to the human population of Sunnydale. The demonic population however... ...

“OK, so he helped us with Glory...once. Have you forgotten all the times he's tried to kill us? Have you forgotten Adam, or the Gem of Amarra? Have you forgotten the two Slayers he's killed? What about the order of Taraka and what a picnic that was? 'Cos I sure as hell remember that!

“And what about all the death and destruction he's dished out that we don't even know about? I mean... c'mon, Buffy. The guy's evil, and helping out every now and again to save his own skin doesn't mean anything!”

Buffy grit her teeth in an attempt to stop herself telling Xander to shut up and fuck off. Taking a calming breath, she locked eyes with her so-called friend and continued, trying to control herself. “Doesn't mean anything?! He withstood torture at the hands of a god, to protect Dawn and me!! That isn't supposed to mean anything?! He didn't have to do that, Xander, but he did. Could YOU have done it? Taken whatever Glory dished out and not talked, not said anything about Dawn being the key? HUH? Could you?”

Xander's expression hardened slightly, clearly not impressed with being compared to the vampire.
“He's a Vampire, Buffy! You can't expect me to be able to take the kind of punishment that he did! That's not fair!”

“EXACTLY, XANDER!” Leaning forward, her resolve strengthened, she continued on, trying to get through to him. “He is a vampire, but he still did what he could to protect me and my sister. What loyalty did he owe us? Who wouldn't have been surprised if he'd blabbed to Glory? You say that he's evil, well he had a perfect opportunity to BE evil right there! He could've sold us out to save his own skin, hell, he could've probably had Glory try and get his chip out in exchange for telling her who the key was, but he didn't! He stood up to her, and suffered through things that would have killed you and had you begging for mercy ten times over, so don't you sit there and judge him, and tell me that what he did isn't worth our respect!

“Did you know that he was prepared to die that night on the tower? He was ready to sacrifice himself to save Dawn, and that he had taken steps to look after my family even after he died?”

Before Xander could reply to Buffy's tirade, Giles' curiosity was piqued. “Steps? What steps, Buffy? Please elaborate for me?”

Buffy sighed, she hadn't meant to let that slip, that piece of info was for her family to know, and no-one else. Trying some quick mental gymnastics, she ran through some ideas in her head to try and explain away her inadvertent revelation. Coming up decidedly short, she settled for the truth.

“He left me and Mom some money, for us to use to, y'know, do things with.”

Giles took in Buffy's body language, and sudden inability to meet everyone's eyes. Clearly this was something she thought she had to hide, and pressed the matter further. “Things?”

“OH, for the love of--,” Buffy began, exasperated. “He left us enough money to pay off the house and put Dawn through college and even have enough left over for us to live on comfortably for a very long time! There, are you happy now? He left us a LOT of money! Like a real lot.”

Giles sat back, slightly stunned at this admission. Spike had made arrangements to look after Buffy and her family financially. This from the vampire that used to hit him up for money to buy booze and cigarettes with! 'Maybe, just maybe, I have misjudged Spike somewhat. He's still beneath Buffy, but can I really begrudge him for leaving her and her family money?'

Giles was in something of a conundrum as to how to feel about this, and was just about to ask Buffy where Spike had acquired this money, but Xander, vitriolic as ever, beat him to it.

Shocked expressions seemed to be the order of the day after this bit of information had landed. Xander was the first to shake himself back into his default setting when things concerning Spike came up.

“You're not gonna take it are you? I mean... who knows what he did to get it, who he killed and stole it from! Money like that, there's no way he came by that legally! It's just blood money from an evil thing ...a monster! He's trying to buy his way into your life. You can't let--”

“I cant what, Xander?!” Buffy bristled with indignation, feeling her temper flare. “How dare you sit there and tell me what I can and can't do! I know how he got it, he told my mom and me, and we believe him. He didn't do anything bad to get it... he didn't kill anybody for it, it's not from a Ponzi scheme... he didn't even sell Amway! He's had it a long time, and wanted us to have it.”

“My God, Buffy! Can't you hear yourself, defending him? Defending Spike! It's just wrong! The way you're talking about him! It's...it's...” Words seemed to fail the brunette as he stammered to a halt, his mind whirling with righteous rage and resentment.

The rest of the gang seemed to come back to themselves, shaken out of their shocked stupor, and from the looks being given Xander from the rest of them, they were not happy. Giles was the first to speak his mind, and directed his comments to the seething carpenter.

“That's quite enough, Xander! Buffy's right. Whether she decides to take the money or not, it is still none of your concern. That decision lies with Buffy and Joyce. While I may not agree with them taking money from Spike, I have enough respect for them to stay out of their business. I suggest you do the same... Is that clear?”

Xander turned his angry gaze to the watcher and, taking in the expressions of everyone else at the table, spoke through clenched teeth.

“Am I the only one that has a problem with this? With Spike trying to buy his way into Buffy's good graces, and listening to her talk about him like...like...like she cares about the bleached prick!”

Xander couldn't believe it. Spike wasn't supposed to be the one that came to Buffy's rescue in times of crisis, or any time for that matter, it was supposed to be him. Something from deep inside him reared it's head and screamed in rage! 'THAT'S MY PLACE, NOT HIS! SHE'S MINE TO HAVE!' To say that Xander was surprised at the sudden, all-consuming rage and jealousy he felt would be an understatement, but that didn't lessen their effects. Something within Xander had been awoken at the prospect of Buffy having any kind of feeling for Spike, and that something was not happy in the least.

Willow couldn't contain herself any longer, sitting, listening to Xander rant and rave about the evilness that was Spike. Willow knew of the respect that Spike had for Joyce, and if he'd told her about this money, and Joyce believed him, that was good enough for her. If Spike wanted to give the Summers girls some money, as Giles said, it was no-one's business but theirs, and it certainly wasn't Xander's place to tell them that they couldn't accept it.

“Well, you're the only one shouting and attacking Buffy because of it, so I’d have to say yes, you are the only one with a problem, Xander. It's nothing to do with you, and it's actually gonna help them so I don't see a problem with it. NOW. LEAVE. HER. ALONE!”

Anya decided now would be an excellent time to interject on the matter, seeing as how this had clearly degenerated into a free-for-all. Speaking from behind the counter, she voiced her opinion. “Absolutely, Xander! How is Buffy supposed to survive in America, the land of capitalism, without a source of income? I think it's long overdue that she doesn't have to worry about money. The council should really pay Slayers, Giles! Now she doesn't need to worry about anything but being killed in battle! That's good!”

Clearly sensing that he was outnumbered, Xander held his hands up in surrender and once gain leaned back in his chair, looking sullen. He couldn't believe that everyone else seemed to have been suckered in by the peroxide pest. That he would find himself alone against all his friends didn't for one minute cause Xander to wonder whether he was maybe in the wrong here. He was totally convinced that all this was somehow Spike's fault, he just hadn't figured out how to link him into it all. The recently awakened creature growled inside him. Spike would not get away with this. Once again it reaffirmed it's belief that Xander was the one that Buffy should turn to in a time of need.

Tara took the sudden calm to interject. “Buffy? If you want to take the money, if you think it'll help, and you're happy with how Spike got it, then... I...” She spared a glance at the sulking teen across the table from her and then returned her gaze to the Slayer “.... I think you should take it.”

Willow smiled at her girlfriend and once again reached for her hand, pulling it onto the table for all of them to see. “Yep! Totally with Tara on this, Buffy. Besides, shopping! Hello! Major excuse for a shopping trip to end all shopping trips!”

Anya nodded her head sagely, sharing a smile with the girls who were all giggling lightly, the mention of shopping having opened up various possibilities in Buffy's mind.

Giles, sensing that if he didn't take control rather quickly, the conversation could spiral even more out of control, what with the mention of shopping.

“Was there anything else that you wished to discuss with us Buffy, or was the subject of Spike's generosity the sole purpose of this meeting? You said you made a number of decisions?”

Brought out of her little mental tour of the Sunnydale mall, complete with limitless credit card, Buffy came crashing back to reality. She had to tell her friends, that, after everything he'd done for her, and all the thinking that she'd done over the last few days, she wanted to try at a relationship with Spike. The wasps returned with a sudden vengeance, causing her stomach to lurch sharply.

“Actually, Giles, there was something else, it's also about... Spike.”

Buffy spotted Tara move closer to Willow, lean in and whisper something in her ear. Willow's eyes bugged for a moment and she turned to look at Tara. Tara nodded in reply to Willow's unspoken question. Giving Tara's hand a reassuring squeeze and gracing her with a smile, the red witch turned her full attention back to Buffy.

Smiling at Buffy, Willow nodded her head, and Buffy guessed that Tara had just spilled her secret to Willow and this was Willow's way of showing her support for her friend. Tara too was smiling, and Buffy drew some strength from the fact that both the witches were doing what they could to show her there would be no recriminations coming from them when she gave voice to her decision.

“You see, Spike's not only gonna be helping me patrol, he's.... well... he's.... we're....after some thought, he's...”

Willow spoke up, seeing Buffy was struggling with what she obviously wanted to tell them.

“C'mon Buffy, you can tell us. We're all friends here,” the witch assured her, fixing Xander with a stony glare, before turning back to Buffy with a supportive, comforting smile.

Taking a deep breath, looking at Willow and Tara smiling at her from across the table and taking a quick glance at her as-yet-unseen mother, Buffy spoke firmly and with deliberate determination.

“Spike and I are going to start dating.”

Silence.

Pin-drop silence.

“WHAT!” Xander's exclamation shattered the silence and seemed to echo off the walls of the shop. He was furious. He couldn't believe it. Buffy had the hots for another vampire! What was wrong with her? Did she not see how wrong this was? What was wrong with human guys? If she kept on dating the undead, then she'd never be able to see the good things that came from dating normal guys, and if she never saw that, then she'd never see him! The creature inside him raged, and, it seemed, released it's hold on his unconscious desires. It came to him in a moment of perfect, crystallizing clarity. He wanted Buffy, he always had.
He knew if he hung around and helped her, forced himself into her life, then she couldn't ignore him forever, and eventually, she'd come to her senses. He was her best option for happiness it told him, he was a nice, normal guy, but he knew of her world, had lived in it for years and so it was something that they could deal with together, until he could convince her to give up the slaying gig, let Faith take over and he and Buffy could be happy. But once again, a filthy, disgusting, vampire would get in his way, would get to have what he had wanted since their first meeting. Spike would get to have Buffy. This was simply unacceptable.

He could see now, Anya was a place-holder for what his heart truly desired, and he would not be denied it.

“Buffy, you can't be serious!! I mean this is a joke, right? RIGHT? You and Spike? Have you lost your mind?”

“It's no joke, Xander! I want to be with Spike... he's done a lot for us, a lot for me, because he loves me. I want to give him a chance.”

Xander's chair scraped back across the floor as he leapt to his feet. “A CHANCE?! A CHANCE AT WHAT, KILLING US ALL? Let's not forget what happened the last time you gave a vampire a chance with you! He turned all evil-psycho-murderer and Miss Calendar ended up dead!!”

Buffy's head dropped at this reminder of her past love affair with Angel. She knew that something like this would come up, but she wasn't prepared for the anger and spite behind Xander's words. Luckily for her, or maybe luckily for Xander, it was Giles that chose to respond, rather than Buffy.

Something inside Giles snapped at the mention of Jenny. He would NOT allow Xander to use Jenny to justify his assault on his Slayer. That horrific episode of his life had long since passed into the painful memory part of his mind, but even at it's most raw, Giles had never blamed Buffy for what Angel had done. Ripper came forth without hesitation. “XANDER! THAT'S QUITE ENOUGH! YOU WILL CONTROL YOURSELF, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!”

Xander turned his angry eyes on the watcher, fury flashing over his face. “NO, GILES! This is wrong, it's just wrong. God, it's so disgusting... I don't even want to think about it. If you think I’m just gonna smile and congratulate her on hooking up with the evil dead, you can forget about it! He's an evil, disgusting, demon thing! I’m not just gonna stand here and watch the two of them play at being a happy couple, I’ll stake him first!”

Buffy's eyes flew upwards at this statement, meeting Xander's hate-filled gaze, which was boring down on her now. She was just about to respond when, in her peripheral vision, she caught her mother finally making her presence known to all.

Xander's blood thundered in his ears, his heart thumping in his chest. There was no way on this Earth that he would allow Buffy to be with Spike. No way on this Earth, or Hell, for that matter. He knew if he let them be together he would lose his shot with her forever. There was no way he could compete with the blonde pest, and that wasn't a risk he was willing to take. It was obvious to him now that he'd spent too much time, been in too many dangerous situations, to give up his dream of being with Buffy, and if Spike had to dust so that dream could be kept alive, he was OK with that. The creature in his chest snarled and growled. Now that he knew his dream could be taken from him, it was fighting back with everything it could call upon.

To say Joyce was outraged at the young man's behaviour was like saying the Atlantic was a bit damp! She strode from her place in the back of the shop and, ignoring the surprised looks from Giles, Willow and Tara, planted herself smack in-front of Buffy's so-called friend.

“HOW DARE YOU, ALEXANDER HARRIS!! WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO SPEAK TO BUFFY LIKE THAT?”

Xander was shocked at the sudden appearance of Buffy's mom, and was unprepared for the venom in her tone, or the look of fire in her eyes. Looking at the other occupants of the room for any sign of support, he realised he was alone out on the precarious limb he'd placed himself on. Trying desperately to find some way out of the hole he'd just dug for himself, he quailed and stammered the first thing that came to mind, but no-one ever accused Xander of being all that smart.

“Mrs. Summers, I didn't know you were here, I--”

“That much is obvious! I assume you were expecting everyone to agree with you, or at the very least, not oppose you in your bigoted tirade at my daughter! I don't mean you, Tara, or you, Willow, but the rest of you? I’ve never been as ashamed of associating with someone as I am right now!”

Anya, who had been observing things from her place behind the sales counter, had the good graces to look at the floor, a mumbled apology spilling forth, while Giles blustered indignantly.

He had to confess, he was less than pleased with this latest revelation from Buffy, but he would be dammed if he would let Joyce think that he would have allowed Xander to continue talking to Buffy in that way! Xander had crossed so many lines, not the least of which being the incredible rudeness and aggression that he had displayed towards Buffy. Giles had never approved of rudeness, especially that directed at women. Something in his British upbringing railed against it, and he was going to make the point very clear to Joyce that he would not have sat idly by and given Xander seemingly free reign to continue to verbally flay his charge.

“Joyce, really! Do you believe that I would have allowed Xander to speak like that to Buffy and get away with it? That I would tolerate such behaviour toward my Slayer? I can assure you, I would have dealt with the matter in due course, without your interference. Do you have such little faith in me when it comes to Buffy's welfare?”

Joyce took a calming breath, trying to wrestle the lioness that roared inside her back into its cage. She softened her expression lightly and nodded to Giles in apology or at least recognition of his concern where Buffy was involved. Turning back to Xander, she fixed him with a deadly glare and spoke with a deceivingly calm and measured tone, despite the maternal rage boiling beneath the surface.

“I believe I’m still waiting for an answer, Xander. What exactly gives you the right to try and dictate to my daughter anything concerning her personal life?”

Xander once again struggled to find an answer that would be satisfactory to Joyce, or anyone else for that matter. He couldn't tell them the truth, that his deep-seated rage stemmed from a jealousy that he had just become aware of, that he was the one that deserved to be with Buffy. He instead reached for the default argument whenever the subject of Spike, or demons in general, was raised.

“Mrs. Summers, can't you see, he's evil. He's a filthy demon on a leash, something that Buffy should have dusted years ago. He's not good; he's not capable of good because he doesn't have a soul. Look what happened with Angel, he lost his soul and started killing people! Well Spike hasn't lost his, he never had one to begin with! All he has is the chip-- what happens if it stops working? It'll be the same thing all over again! He's just a thing, an evil thing, and I don't think Buffy should be giving evil, soulless, disgusting, demon things a chance at getting into her pants!”

Buffy could no longer restrain herself. Hearing Xander take that tone of voice with her mother, she would swear to her last day that it wasn't her that made the move but her Slayer side. She was upon him in an instant, delivering a vicious, if slightly pulled, open-handed slap to his face. Xander reeled back on his heels, everyone's eyes widening in shock at what had just happened.

Joyce managed to loop an arm round Buffy's middle, and hold her back, preventing her from pummelling her 'friend' into a bloody mess. Willow, Tara and Giles all leapt to their feet and came around the table to stand beside and behind the Summers women. Anya was noticeable in her lack of movement, but certainly made no move to go to Xander's side.

“You will NOT speak to my mother like that again, Xander, do you understand?” Buffy could barely believe what was happening. The chaos that had ensued at the mention of her and Spike's planned relationship was more than she'd imagined in her worst nightmare.

At Xander's tentative nod, Joyce altered her grip on Buffy, no longer restraining her, but now pulling her into an embrace, once again, trying to lend her some semblance of support.

“Is any of it starting to sink in yet, Xander? You've been hit by both my daughters now for speaking out of turn, and on matters that don't concern you. Who Buffy decides to date is none of your business, and I will not allow you to stand I the way of something that she wants to do. And I will certainly not stand by and let you threaten the life of the man that save both of my daughters. Do I make myself clear?”

Buffy turned her head into her mother's chest and took a calming breath; her Slayer side seemed to be content to allow Buffy to settle this matter herself. Turning back to face the carpenter, who now bore a bright red hand-print on the side of his face, she fired back with her own argument, trying desperately to batter her way through Xander's thick skull without resorting to her fists.

“Who are you to stand there and judge me, Xander? Have you forgotten some of the mistakes you've made along the way, just in the time that I've known you? Shall we go through them together? Let's see...”

Buffy held up a hand and began ticking off points on her fingers, one by one. “There was that Inca-mummy girl that killed people so she could stay alive. Not much different from a vampire, was she? Then there was the whole hyena possession episode that I really don't want to think about, you didn't exactly come out of that smelling like roses, did you? Oh, then there was Praying Mantis lady, she killed virgins, and if memory serves me right, didn't you tell me after that that you'd acted like an idiot?! And let's not even start on Cordelia, and that wonderful idea of yours to do a love spell to get her back! Then there was your wonderful decision to break up Willow and Oz by kissing her, 'cos you thought you were gonna be replaced and Willow wouldn't be crushing on you anymore!” Buffy held up one more finger on her right hand to add to the five she had ticked off on her left. “And now we have Anya, an 1100 year old ex-vengeance demon, who's probably killed more people than Angel, Spike, Darla and Drusilla combined!!”

Anya took this moment to raise her hand and interject in a quite cheerful voice, “Sorry to interrupt, please don't hit me, but there's no 'probably' about it. My body count is way more than the scourge of Europe, what with the whole Russian revolution thing! I think that might still be a record to this day,” she finished proudly.

Xander was looking at his girlfriend in horror as she carelessly laid out the achievements of her demon life. He could barely believe it, she was siding with the rest of them, against him, and rubbing her demon past in his face to do it!

Buffy dropped her hands to her hips, and cocked a brow at Xander, her body language screaming triumph. “There you go, she's happy with what she did, she had to, it was her life then, it was her job, but we don't hold it against her, do we? The same as I don't hold any of your gigantic screw-ups against you. Never have I tried to tell you what you couldn't do, who you couldn't date. Cordelia would have been top of the list if I had! But I didn't, and I don't use them to guilt you into doing what I want you to do, do I?

“For god's sake Xander, your whole argument is based on what Spike MIGHT do! It's all hypothetical! We don't punish people because of what they might do. Do you see us harassing Anya because she MIGHT return to her demon ways? No, you don't. That would be wrong. But according to you, it's fine to do that to Spike! And what about you?! Do you remember what you did to me while you were possessed by that Hyena spirit?! Not what you might have done to me, but what you actually did to me? Well, Spike's never done anything like that, even when we were enemies!

“Not once did I interfere with your personal life, because I had, and still have, enough respect for you to let you make your own decisions, and if they're mistakes, let you learn from them.”

Turning towards Willow, Buffy softened her tone and tried to smile gently at both her and Tara. It was time, unfortunately, to bring them into this. She didn't want to, but she needed everyone to understand her point of view, and understand that what she was asking of them was nothing that she hadn't already given them.

“Willow, did I say anything to you about dating Oz, once we found out he was a werewolf? Did any of us try and tell you that it was too dangerous for you to be around him?”

Willow smirked a little and shook her head.

A tight smile came to Willow's lips as she slowly shook her head. “No Buffy, you didn't, no one did. No one even thought about killing him... well, I don't think anybody did, at least. And no one tried to tells how to handle our relationship. We made that decision for ourselves, together.”

Turning to face a sullen looking Xander, the red witch hardened her expression as she spoke to him. “And let's not forget who was more dangerous. When Oz was transformed, he didn't know who he was, who any of us were. He would have bitten or killed us without a thought. Kinda dangerous, don't you think Xand? But it was OK wasn't it, 'cos he was our friend?”

Buffy looked at Tara as Willow spoke to Xander. She really didn't want to have to bring this up, but she felt like it would punctuate her point, and she needed Xander to understand the situation fully. Whether it was Tara's empathetic connection that she seemed to be able to forge with people, or just the fact that Tara could see where this was headed, the result was the same. A shy nod and smile from the witch was all the permission that Buffy need to hammer home her final point.

“What about Tara, Wills? Did I try and talk you out of starting a relationship with her? Did I ever try and tell you what was best for you, maybe that you weren't gay and were just confused about things. Or Tara? Did I ever tell you that maybe you weren't right for Willow and that I wanted you to stay away from her?”

Reaching out, Tara took Buffy's hand in hers and looked straight at Xander, with cold detachment in her eyes. Though she answered Buffy's question, it was clear that she was speaking to Xander.

“No, Buffy, you never once said anything like that to me, you have only ever tried to be supportive to both me and Willow. That's what friends do. They help and support, they don't judge and condemn.”

Xander's shoulders were slumped in total defeat. He could see what they were trying to say, but for the life of him, he couldn't let go of the fact that Spike would get to have Buffy and he wouldn't. He was going to finally miss out on his dream because of some filthy, disgusting, soulless vampire. She was choosing Spike over him.

Throughout the whole episode, Joyce had watched Xander, his defences crumbling slowly, but she could see that some were still in place. After all that, they'd only just managed to make a dent! She could barely believe her eyes.

“Well, after all that, I think it's time for me and Buffy to leave. Thank you for the hospitality, Rupert, and once again, I apologise for being so rash with you earlier, that was uncalled for and I’m sorry for it.”

“Quite alright, Joyce, I assure you. I would have to say, at the time, that you had every right to be angry. I can only apologise as well, for making it seem like I would not have stepped in to try and defuse the situation.”

Very quick hugs were exchanged between the females in the room and a number of assurances were made to Tara and Willow and Anya that they were welcome at the Summers' whenever the impulse took them to visit. A final quick arrangement confirming the plan for a celebratory meal to be had once Spike was back on his feet took place, with Joyce making it plain that she would notify everyone of the time and location, with the exception of Xander of course, and with that, Buffy and Joyce were escorted to the door by a rather haggard looking Giles.

Stepping out into the sunlight, Joyce turned to Buffy and tried her best to smile. “Well, that went well, don't you think?”

CHAPTER TEN:

It had been three days since Buffy had spoken to her friends about Spike. Three days of reassuring smiles from Willow and Tara. Three days of giggling grins from Dawn whenever the subject of Spike was raised. Three days of gentle smiles and hugs from her mother and, she was sure, what would have been three days of bluster, contempt, judgement, and condemnation from Xander, had he been allowed into the house.

But he wasn't. The Summers residence remained free from his negative influence. Such that it was, the morning of that day, the ninth since falling from the tower, Spike appeared in the kitchen dressed in grey sweats and a white t-shirt, standing on his own two feet.

“Spike!” Dawn squealed in excitement and was immediately upon him, enveloping him in a hug. He let out a pained gasp, which caused Dawn to release him and step back, holding him at arm's length.

“I'm alright, bit, just me ribs are a little sore, that's all. Can't take you squeezing the un-life out of me just yet.” His words were tinged with pain, but his smile seemed genuine. Enough, at least, to mollify the youngest Summers girl.

Moving with a confidence that showed he wasn't lying, he seated himself at the breakfast bar and took in the smiles around him. Buffy came to his side, placed both her hands to either of his cheeks, cupping his face, and placed a soft and chaste kiss to his lips.

He let the sensation wash over him, and, breaking the kiss, leaned his forehead against hers. Unseen to either of them, Joyce smiled contentedly, watching the pair connect properly, in full view of others, rather than small, stolen, private moments up in her room.

Since the arguments in the Magic Box, Joyce's visits to Spike had become less frequent, but they had lasted longer, as Spike was now capable of holding a decent conversation. She'd let Buffy take the lead in Spike's care while Joyce had satisfied herself with spending time with him after she came home from work, often being with him for a couple of hours at a time. They would talk of history mostly, but it became apparent to Joyce that they were able to cover a wide range of subjects within that category, as Spike was obviously well travelled and had a keen intellect. Art, poetry, literature, world cultures and cities, the subjects were wide ranging and wonderfully detailed.

Aside from helping Dawn with her summer assignments from school -- and who could ask for a better tutor when it came to twentieth century history or Shakespeare -- Spike would also talk about his experiences from the course of his life. Once Dawn was safely in bed, the subjects would shift slightly in focus, after Joyce and Buffy had expressed an interest in his experiences of the First and Second World Wars. Needless to say, some of the things he told them had been on the harrowing side, and Joyce suspected that a lot of what he had told them had been heavily edited, but she had to admit, a lot of it was very interesting.

His obvious distaste for the Nazi regime was clearly visible, and he made no bones about his readiness to oppose them. He said it had been his duty 'as an Englishman' to fight them.

“Ol' Winston Churchill was right, y'know. We don't do surrender, unlike those bloody French! Six weeks and they folded! We fought for SIX SODDING YEARS!”

The sound of the microwave finishing with a loud tone brought Joyce out of her memories, and she re-focused on the pair of them as Buffy handed Spike his cup of blood.

“So, Spike, I take it that you're feeling a lot better, given your current position?” Said position being sat on a stool with Buffy in his lap, a hand wrapped lightly round her midsection, holding her to him in a clear sign of affection.

“'M getting there, Joyce, thanks for asking. Like I said to nibblet, I reckon me ribs and middle must've faired the worst, 'cos they're all still a bit sore, but other than that, think I’m on the mend.”

Smiling brightly at him, she reached across the bar top and took his hand and squeezed gently.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. Listen, we've been putting it off for a little while, 'til you recovered, but would you be interested in joining us for a meal? A sort of belated celebration of how things turned out?”

“You want me to come?” Spike spoke with an air of uncertainty, as if he'd not heard her correctly. He tried sending a questioning look at Buffy, to see how she felt about the whole thing, but she missed it, leaving Spike to rely on Joyce to assure him of his place.

“Of course we want you to come! It's because of you that I still have Buffy and Dawn with me.”

Spike looked down, clearly abashed at the praise now being levelled at him. He swallowed hard, trying to suss out what to do, but at Buffy's gentle nuzzling at the side of his neck and whispered words that Joyce couldn't quite hear, he looked up with bright eyes and spoke clearly, a genuine hint of happiness in his tone.

“I'd love to, Joyce. Thank you, for the offer.”

Returning his smile full force, Joyce excused herself and made her way to the phone in the living room. She was soon immersed in the task of contacting everyone and discovering people's availability for the occasion.

Almost as soon as Joyce had left the kitchen, Buffy spun her body, now straddling Spike, her chest pressed to his as she once again took his face in her hands and kissed him, putting in a little more passion than she had previously. Just as she started slowly grinding herself down on his groin, eliciting a low growl from him that seemed to instantly moisten her panties, a loud “Ahem” pierced her focused mind.

Separating with an exhaled breath, both Buffy and Spike turned their heads in unison to see a grinning Dawn with raised eyebrows looking at them. In her rush for some Spike goodness, Buffy had completely forgotten about her younger sister being in the room. Deciding against adding to Dawn's sexual education with a show on foreplay, she extracted herself from Spike's embrace.

“Dawn, don't you have a 'where' to be that's 'else? Like... oh, I don't know, Janice's?”

Buffy scowled at Dawn, trying to emphasize her point that definite alone-time was needed. With a slightly put-upon sigh and “Hhmmppfff” but still grinning nonetheless, Dawn was gone, calling out to Joyce on her way that she was going out for the day but would be back later that afternoon.

“Love that girl to death, but I really thought that she'd never leave,” Spike said with a smile as Buffy regained her previous position atop him. Their kisses also resumed and Buffy was instantly ablaze with desire that seemed to burn through her. She couldn't deny, at least to herself, that it had been a while since Riley had left and, as boring and unsatisfying as sex with him had been, it was better than the forced abstinence that she'd been subjected to since his departure. The fact that Spike was on the road to recovery gave her some hope that, soon, she'd be able to quench that desire she was feeling.

During the last three days, she and Spike had been able to steal a number of private moments together while he was confined to bed, but in that time, for obvious reasons, they had not progressed past some intense make-out sessions. It would be truly horrifying if either her sister or mother had managed to catch them doing what Buffy was seriously longing for them to do.

The thought of Joyce or Dawn walking in on the pair of them to find Buffy bent over, with Spike slipping into her from behind caused a blush to creep up her neck and flush the skin of her face. That would be something from which she could never recover. She'd just barely come to terms with the biting 'incident'. Still, the instinct and yearning was still there, causing her channel to clench and throb, and her clit to tingle and pulse in time with her heartbeat.

She couldn't truly explain what had happened to her over the last few days. Maybe it was the bite that had blown Buffy's body and mind into the stratosphere, but she found herself having some especially vivid and erotic fantasies and daydreams. She wondered whether Spike's bite had awoken something inside her, her inner woman, maybe even her inner Slayer, but the result was always the same. Moist panties, moist channel, mushy brain, and a voice screaming in her head to take what she wanted. Considering her previous sexual experiences, some of these thoughts and fantasies had taken Buffy's breath away. She had no idea where those instincts and yearnings were coming from, but, oh how she loved them. She wanted them, and she wanted to experience them with Spike.

Now that she had started playing those fantasies in her mind, it seemed she couldn't stop them as more and more images and thoughts flashed through her head. She buried her face in the crook of Spike's neck and closed her eyes, letting the erotic movies play out on the insides of her eyelids.

She could see Spike spread beneath her, his cock sliding into her body as she rode him at a gallop, slamming her hips down onto him, forcing his shaft into her again and again. She could picture him above her, pressing feather-light kisses to her neck and whispering words in her ear as he made love to her, slowly, deeply, gently. The personal favourite, it seemed, was something Buffy had never experienced before, but the frequency, clarity, and intensity with which she imagined it was quickly bumping it to number one on her 'to-try-with-Spike' list. She could see herself bent over, Spike slamming into her from behind with speed and power. She could almost hear herself screaming in pleasure as Spike broke her body, then, with a gentleness and love she hoped she could be worthy of, he put her back together again.

Buffy was once again brought out of her reverie, this time by Spike, as he stilled the movement of her hips on his groin. Raising her head to look at him questioningly, Spike closed the distance between them and placed a soft kiss to her lips, while holding her hips still.

The reason became apparent as Joyce entered the kitchen and saw the two blondes still locked in an embrace. She'd made sure that her final goodbye, in that instance, to Rupert, was possibly louder than necessary, and had purposefully made a mini-drama of replacing the phone in its cradle, again, making a bit more noise than was strictly necessary. This, in the hope that Spike's enhanced hearing would give them ample time to arrange themselves into a somewhat respectable position.

She had no objection whatsoever to Spike and Buffy's relationship, but still, that didn't mean that she wanted to walk in and see him doing something... inappropriate to her daughter. She knew what it was like at the beginning of relationships, when everything was new and exciting, and she well understood the mind of a young woman, and the promises that a new relationship could hold. As such, it was with a sudden flash of horror her brain had pointed out that it may not have been Spike that had initiated the said behaviour. That was something she had no desire to see or even contemplate! With a quick shudder she expelled that thought from her brain.

Regaining her composure as best she could, she addressed the pair that had looked up at her arrival.

“Well, I’ve spoken to everyone, and it looks like tonight is the night. Giles made the suggestion, and I agree, that we should try the Chinese restaurant downtown. Royal China, I think was the name. It certainly seems to be a bit more appropriate for a sit-down meal than say, The Bronze, and I happen to share Giles' distaste for bar food and loud music. Does that sound alright with the two of you?”

Buffy, getting off Spike's lap, nodded her head, trying desperately to hide the building lust and tightness she was feeling in her lower half. Her channel was clenching, throbbing and creaming with an unfulfilled desire to be, well, filled. She didn't know what her voice would sound like if she spoke, but she had the distinct impression it would come out of her in a breathy rush, or maybe a desperate whimper and so contented herself with her non-verbal reply.

Spike, sensing Buffy's distress, stepped in and spoke to Joyce, answering for the pair of them.

“Sounds brilliant, Joyce. I’ve developed a taste for Chinese food, having eaten the real thing in me travels. I reckon I should be able to find the good stuff on the menu and steer everyone away from the bits they won't like.”

“Good. Well, everyone's going to meet there at 7 tonight. Giles is booking a table for the eight of us at quarter past, but he says it rarely gets busy, so there shouldn't be an issue with waiting.”

A short silence followed her words and Joyce decided that maybe she was intruding slightly on the couple, and so graciously thought of giving them an out.

“Why don't you go back upstairs, Spike? I’ve got a few things to finish up at the gallery, and a little clearing up to do around the house. I think it best to take advantage of the fact that Dawn isn't here to create more mess as I go, and you should probably get some rest before tonight. Buffy'll keep an eye on you, won't you Buffy?”

Buffy tried desperately to silence the voices in her head that had jumped all over Joyce's innocent statement, and also tried to kill the twinkle she knew was lighting her eye as she turned to look at her mother.

“Sure, I’m all over Spike... errr... I mean... I’m on top of him... IT! IT! On top of IT... the looking...after of Spike.” Taking a breath, and trying to get her brain to work again, she continued on, “You go and do what you have to do at the gallery, we'll be here for when Dawn gets back, if you're not home, that is. I’ll let her know about tonight and make sure she has something to wear.” She paused at this for a moment as a sudden thought struck her.

“D' you need something to wear for tonight, Spike? Are you OK with what you have?”

Spike smiled at her, still trying to get his head round the fact that Buffy was actually thinking of him, and what he wanted and needed.

“I'll be fine pet. If memory serves, I’ve got clean jeans and tees upstairs from your last visit to my crypt. S'not like we're going to meet some U.N. Ambassadors. S'just a meal out with mates. I’ll be respectable enough, promise.”

Placing a kiss to Buffy's cheek, he stood with a fluidity and confidence that reinforced Buffy's belief that he really was doing better and bid a quick farewell to Joyce before disappearing upstairs for his suggested rest.

Joyce watched as Buffy's eyes followed Spike out of the room and secretly smiled to herself. 'She's happy, for the first time in a long time, she's happy, and Spike has done that!'

“I won't be gone that long, Buffy, but make sure he takes it easy today, alright? He could use the rest before tonight. Oh, and just to let you know, I spoke to Anya about tonight. She says that Xander is still mad about the whole situation with Spike and, as a result, I told her to tell him not to come. I don't want any arguments tonight and the easiest way, we both agreed, was to simply not invite him, is that OK?”

“It's fine, Mom. I’m really not in the mood for more of his attitude at the moment. Maybe he'll figure out that his behaviour has consequences. It'll do him good, right?” Buffy added while a slight grin graced her features.

Joyce returned her smile full force. “Absolutely. He needs to learn his place, maybe this will help get the message across. Right, I’m off, I’ll see you later, sweetie. Remember, let him rest.” Joyce gave Buffy a brief scowl, but it softened instantly at the look of innocence Buffy was trying to plaster to her face. With a shake of her head, Joyce was gone, leaving the pair alone in an empty house.

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Buffy pushed open the door to her mother's room and stood in the doorway, her hip cocked to the side in as an alluring pose as she could muster. It was strange to her but since her decision to try for a relationship with Spike she'd felt, perhaps for the first time, desirable. As a result, her confidence in herself had grown. How could it not, when Spike looked at her the way he was right now. Looking at her like she was his dream, made flesh and sent to Earth, just for him.

'God, what the hell was wrong with me, for so long?! How could I not see that? He loves me, REALLY loves me.”

She was pulled from her internal musing when she realised he had spoken, and she hadn't heard a word. Shaking her head to cover her momentary lapse, she tried to get him to repeat what he'd said, with as much dignity and eloquence as she could muster.

“Huh?”

Grinning from ear to ear, Spike propped himself up a little further against the headboard and spoke in a low, gravelly voice. The voice, it seemed, that never failed to cause Buffy's insides to ache and clench involuntarily.

“I said, 'Kitten looks like she's spoilin' for some trouble.'”

He couldn't help the grin that came to his face as hers contorted in confusion, that little crease in her brow that he found so cute coming to the fore.

“There's trouble now?”

“Not that kind of trouble, Buffy. The good kind.”

“Wait, there's a good kind of trouble? Why wasn't I told about this? If there's a good kind of trouble, I should know about it, especially if it's happening in Sunnydale. I’m the Slayer, and any kind of trouble I should-”

She stopped when she noticed his expression, a look of controlled, searing lust, mixed with amusement, but the icing on the cake and the thing that gave it away was the suggestive leer and wiggle of his eyebrows. Suddenly her brain, having engaged her 'Spike' filter, put two and two together and managed to come up with four.

“Ohhhh, that kind of trouble. Well, let's just say... I wouldn't mind.... if we... y'know... … got into a little trouble.”

“C'mere then, pet.” Spike jerked his head in a beckoning motion and opened his arms to her in invitation. With no hesitation whatsoever, Buffy was across the room and on the bed in seconds. She cuddled herself into his left side, mindful of his almost healed mid-section. She rejoiced in the contented feeling that was upon her as Spike draped an arm across her stomach in a gentle, but possessive manner. She hooked her head into the crook of his neck and shoulder and let out a breathy sigh as the two of them revelled in the connection they were forming. She could almost feel the love and affection radiating from him as he held her close, his hand making idle shapes on her stomach which had her giggling as she squirmed slightly, unintentionally signalling to Spike her slight ticklish streak.

Spike was in heaven, he was sure of it. He almost wished his heart would beat, if only to make it beat in time with hers and forge another connection to the woman he had in his arms.

The woman he'd fought for.

The woman he would have died for.

The woman he wanted to live for.

The woman he loved.

It was, with great pride in himself, that when he spoke, he was able to keep his voice from cracking.

“Can you let me do this every night, Buffy? Just this? Nothing better to me in all the world than lying here, holding you.”

Buffy fought back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks at the words this man spoke to her. Again, her heart and mind screamed at her in equal parts satisfaction and rage. Rage for the time that had been denied them by others in her life, and satisfaction that she finally had him, and that finally, maybe, she would be able to experience love in all its joyful and terrifying wonder. But, of course, that wasn't enough for the Slayer that resided inside her. The Slayer had to have her say as well, and so, she spoke the words of the Slayer.

“Sure, we can do this every night, but wouldn't you want to do a little more, maybe get into some of that... trouble you mentioned?”

The answering rumbling chuckle pushed vibrations through her as she smiled, unseen by Spike.

“Trust me, Buffy. We'll get into trouble... … when you're ready. I promised myself I’d do this right, and that's what I’m gonna do. When you're ready, I’m all yours, I promise.”

Lifting her head to look into his eyes, she spoke in as serious and sincere a tone as she could. “When I’m ready, Spike, I’ll be all yours as well.” She leaned up and placed a quick kiss to his lips and then drew back a fraction. “All,” another kiss, “yours” another kiss.

“I love you, Buffy.”

“I know.”

Another rumbling chuckle broke the silence of the room, causing Buffy's brows to draw together in confusion. Then, the penny dropped, and she joined in herself.

“Those words are never gonna be usable again, are they?”

“Not if you've seen Star Wars, pet, and let's face it, who hasn't?”

The pair made a few small adjustments to their positions, and, when Dawn came home later that afternoon, she found the pair of them, still together on the bed. Buffy's head comfortably pillowed on Spike's chest, and the only sound in the room was the faint sound of a big cat purring contentedly. Stifling a giggle, she left the pair to their rest and set about turning the kitchen surfaces into a disaster area as she made herself a sandwich. Something Joyce was less than pleased about when she returned from the gallery not that much later.

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Seven o'clock seemed to come quickly, and with a minimum amount of fuss, Spike and his escorts arrived outside the restaurant relatively punctually.

Pushing the pane glass door open, Joyce preceded the entourage into the establishment and, spotting Giles already seated at the edge of a long table, walked over to greet him. Just as the pleasantries were finished being made, Anya, Willow and Tara appeared and seating arrangements were decided.

Spike found himself sandwiched between Buffy and Dawn, with Tara on Dawn's right. On the opposite side, Giles sat facing Buffy, Joyce across from Spike, Anya opposite Dawn and Willow facing Tara. Conversation was light and rapid once the orders for drinks and starters had been placed, everyone favouring soft drinks, including Spike, much to Giles' surprise. He had expected the vampire to be knocking back vast quantities of alcohol throughout the course of the night.

Buffy could tell that Spike was tense, clearly uncomfortable at being welcomed into a social setting amongst people that a few weeks ago, with the exception of Dawn and Joyce, had considered him an annoyance if they were being charitable and generous with their insults. He avoided saying too much as the group descended into unchecked conversation. Willow and Tara were quite happily discussing various aspects of magic, with Anya piping up occasionally to set them right on a subject they were openly wondering about, while Dawn seemed content to listen and ask the occasional question.

Joyce and Giles had migrated their conversation to the realms of literature and history, two subjects that interested the pair of them, and Joyce hoped, might encourage Spike to join in. Buffy rolled her eyes in boredom as the topic of Shakespeare was raised, and so turned to Spike, capturing his attention.

“You OK, with this, I mean?” She couldn't keep the concern out of her voice as she took in his guarded expression, and quiet state, like he was trying to become invisible to everyone else at the table.

Spike kept his voice low, trying not to be heard by the rest of the table. It wouldn't do to spoil the mood of everyone. “'M fine, pet. Just adjusting is all. Not used to being around everyone like this 's all.”

Buffy raised her hand to the table top and took Spike's in hers. She caught the sudden pause in conversation across from her as Giles faltered. This confirmed her suspicion that her watcher was surreptitiously watching her and Spike's interaction. Turning her head slowly, she fixed Giles with a hard stare and spoke quietly and calmly.

“Problem, Giles?”

The sheepish expression on the watcher's face at being caught was all she needed to see, and turned back to Spike, giving him a reassuring smile. “See, nothing to worry about. You're here with me, and no one, including Giles, gets to make you uncomfortable. Understand?”

Spike nodded, and squeezed her hand by way of reply.

Giles took the opportunity to speak up. “I do apologise, Spike. It was not my intent to make you feel unwelcome. After some careful thought on the subject, and having some things pointed out to me, I’ve come to realise that I am in your debt after your actions concerning Glory. You did what you could to protect Dawn, and by extension, Buffy. For that, I am truly grateful.”

Spike couldn't hide the shocked look on his face. Not only had the watcher just apologised to him, but he had also praised him and thanked him! Spike's brain was in high gear, desperately trying to come to terms with what had just happened.

It was with much chagrin that Giles watched the emotions play over the face of the vampire he had just spoken to. Giles liked to think of himself as a reasonable human being, able to offer praise and thanks when the case warranted it, but taking in the expression of Spike, Giles really did wonder on his treatment of said vampire. Spike was truly shocked at the words that Giles had spoken, obviously expecting to never hear such a thing from him. 'Have I really been that unreasonable to him that the merest hint of gratitude would turn him catatonic?!'

Fortunately, the moment was broken as the appetizers arrived, piled high on two huge dishes, to which everyone helped themselves. Spring rolls, crispy battered sweet potato, Satay skewers, ribs, crispy wontons, sesame prawn toast, fried smoked chicken, and what was referred to as 'crispy seaweed' steadily disappeared in a haze of hands, forks and plates.

“It's alright, niblet, I promise, it's not actually seaweed. It's just cabbage fried with sugar 'til it's crispy. No worries, now, you'll like it, c'mon, give it a go.” Spike gently pressed Dawn after he had seen her turn her nose up at the small green flakes he'd placed on her plate for her. “I promise, hand on un-dead heart, it's not really seaweed.”

She tentatively picked some up on her fork and gave it a quick sniff. Apparently satisfied that it didn't have a particularly nasty smell, she popped it into her mouth and chewed, all the while under the smiling observation of Joyce, Giles, Buffy and Spike.

Joyce was pleased and slightly envious of Spike's ability to convince Dawn to try something new, especially if it had the word 'seaweed' in it! She'd have to make sure that Spike spent a lot of time round the house! Maybe Dawn would become a little less finicky in her tastes with Spike's help.

To say that Giles was amazed at the interaction between Spike and Dawn was an understatement. His gentle demeanour, smile, and words instantly made Dawn more receptive to him than she'd ever been to a suggestion made by Giles. Once again, he was forced to concede that maybe he'd misjudged the master vampire.

Buffy, meanwhile was taking in the expressions of her mother and watcher and trying desperately not to laugh. She could get used to this. Without the anxiety and nausea she had experienced before the confrontations at the Magic Box, she could be happy with Spike, something she hadn't felt in a long time.

Dawn, however, having given Spike a playful bump with her shoulder, was happily shovelling food into her mouth. It turned out that Spike hadn't been lying and the seaweed was actually sweet and tasty.

The conversations resumed, this time with the topics flowing around the table as various people chimed in, steering it this way and that. Slowly but surely the appetizers were consumed amidst the chatter, with only a few pauses as plates were passed from person to person to be filled with whatever was desired. Spike very much tried to keep his voice low, talking mainly with the Summers women that surrounded him and the occasional comment to Giles until Willow broached the subject of history, due to an optional, extra credit course she'd seen at college.

When Buffy expressed an interest in maybe going back to college with the start of the new semester in the fall, Spike quickly encouraged her, offering his help in additional tutoring if she so wished. This drew many a raised brow from the assembly, and Spike let out an exasperated sigh. Allowing his voice to slide into its more cultured and refined state, he addressed the table at large.

“What did you expect? I’ve been around for a hundred and twenty years. I’ve picked up a thing or two in my travels, not to mention the degrees I earned at university before Dru found me.”

Giles' eyes widened to comical proportions. “Do you mean to say that you're educated, Spike? I had no idea!”

“Of course I’m educated, Rupert. You couldn't be born when I was, and be in the social standing I was, without an education. I studied at Oxford and Cambridge, with degrees in Latin, Mathematics and Literature. And since then I’ve kept up with enough study that I could probably get a teaching position at UC Sunnydale. Pick a subject, chances are I could lecture in it... … Why are you all looking at me like that? You never bothered to ask about it!”

Joyce smiled as everyone else's eyes dropped at that, well, everyone bar Dawn, who was busy finishing her food. The pair of them already knew this, having spent the time to get to know Spike and so this was no surprise to them.

Luckily, at least for Spike, before the interrogation could begin, a waiter appeared at Giles' elbow, complete with menus, pad, and pen, ready to take the dinner orders.

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Spike couldn't take it any longer. He'd had enough. He needed to do something about it. Damn the consequences! He was going to put an end to this bollocks right now!

Just as Dawn finished her latest exasperated sigh, Spike grabbed her around her middle and with a squeal, she found herself sat on Spike's lap.

“Spike! What are you doing?!”

“Ssshhh, easy, nibblet, bring your food over here will ya?”

Dawn reached over, and picked up her saucer and small ceramic bowl, in keeping with the oriental theme of the restaurant, and brought them to sit in front of her. Spike took her hand in his and showed her how to use the chopsticks that had been brought to the table with the dinner orders correctly. Finally, after a few aborted attempts, she was actually able to get the food into her mouth! He knew her stubborn streak would shine through and she would never admit defeat and pick up a fork, and so she'd spent the last three or four minutes trying in vain to use her chopsticks. Finally, after the umpteenth frustrated sigh, Spike had snapped.

Joyce once again found herself smiling at the vampire, and at the way he showed his affection for her youngest. She also just barely managed to contain the giggle that threatened to fall at Buffy's put-on sulky comment.

“Hhmmpff, my boyfriend cares more about my sister than he does me. S'not fair!” She added in a pout for good measure, her lower lip firmly pushed out as she tried out her puppy-dog eyes on him.

Spike chuckled good naturedly. “Yeah, alright, Buffy, whatever you say!” He leaned over, and placed a soft kiss to her lips. “Gonna get that lip, you keep sticking it out like that,” he whispered as he pulled back, watching with satisfaction as a blush rose up her neck to colour her cheeks.

Something in Buffy's brain, let's call it her inner girl, was jumping up and down, waving her arms in the air. 'Let him get it, please? Let him get our lips, it'll be fun, let him, let him, let him!'

Buffy valiantly tried to ignore the giddy, bouncing girl as her mind was assaulted by more images that were truly not acceptable for discussion at the dinner table. Images that included Spike's head in-between her legs, lapping at her soft folds, and her on her knees, Spike's cock moving slowly in and out of her mouth while she slipped a pair of fingers inside herself over and over again.

Clenching her now throbbing, buttery channel and blowing out a breath, she returned her brain's functions to what was going on around her, and suddenly, it struck her. Spike had kissed her. In full view of her friends and watcher, Spike had kissed her and no-one was screaming at her that she was wrong or shouting the need for a stake with which she should kill him! Conversations were still proceeding as normal, Willow, Tara and Anya paying no mind to them. Joyce was trying her best to smother her smile as she engaged Rupert in a discussion of European art galleries, and Dawn was now relishing the fact that food was now able to make a successful journey from bowl to mouth!

Spike had kissed her, and the world was still here, still turning. The Hellmouth hadn't opened and swallowed them all, nor had it spewed forth a horde of marauding demons with nothing but chaos and mayhem in mind!

Dawn exited Spike's lap and returned to her seat, concentrating on eating. Hey, she was a teenager! That's what teenagers do, right? But it was not lost on her, the interaction between her sister and Spike. To her shame, a small prick of jealousy rose in her for a fleeting moment, before being completely destroyed by the look on both Spike and Buffy's faces. They were happy, and the more mature voice that Dawn knew she had, though others would most definitely agree didn't exist, pointed out that she was partly responsible for those looks. It was her and her mother that had given Buffy the support that she'd needed to stand up to her friends and make the decision about what was best for her. Her and her mother that had championed Spike's case, and it was her and her mother that had spotted the man that Spike could be, long before anyone else.

Dawn swelled slightly with pride. She had done a good thing, for someone else, and seeing the pair of them happy was her reward. She would have continued her introspection, but there was still more food to be eaten, and so, she set about that task with as much gusto as a teenager armed with chopsticks could, that is to say, a lot!

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Joyce took the moment after the table was cleared to stand, and tapping her glass lightly with a pen that she'd pulled from her purse, gathered everyone's attention to her.

“I'd like to take a moment, if I can, to talk about why we're all here. We're all here to celebrate the fact that we're all still here! And for me, I still have both my girls. I have them because of Spike. He saved both my girls, and for that, I can never repay him.” She turned to him, raised her glass in his direction, and spoke. “Thank you, Spike. For the chances you've given us, and the life you've gifted to me and my daughters. Thank you.”

“HERE, HERE!” came the voices from everyone at the table.

Spike ducked his head, and, for all intents and purposes, tried to disappear into his chair. He was uncomfortable being the focus of everyone's well wishes. He didn't do any of what Joyce had spoken of for this reason. He'd done it because of the love he held in his heart for the three women that had accepted him into their home in the days since.

He did it for the love he held for Buffy, the love that is raw and powerful and passionate and burning.

He did it for the love he held for Joyce, the love that is protective and understanding and warm.

He did it for the love he held for Dawn, the love that is fun and equal and accepting.

This was the love that he held for the Summers family. And he would do whatever he could to try and earn all that love that he'd once thought himself unworthy of.

Other people stood to offer their thoughts and congratulations and words of appreciation to him, most surprising of all being the watcher himself.

“I feel it would be remiss of me, Spike, to not also take a moment to extend my personal thanks to you for your efforts on that night. You prevented an apocalypse, and in the process saved my Slayer, and for that I am indebted to you. I will also take this opportunity to voice something else, if I may?

“Although I have... mixed feelings on the subject of your relationship with Buffy-” He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, or maybe patience, when it seemed that Buffy, Dawn and Joyce were all about to object. “I can assure you that I will try my best to... keep an open mind about such things. Have no doubt, though, Spike, if you hurt Buffy, or anyone else for that matter, you and I shall have... … … well, let's leave it at that, shall we?” Giles finished with a raised brow cocked in Spike's direction.

Spike nodded his head, clearly understanding the watcher's meaning, but that wasn't enough for Buffy, who decided to defuse the testosterone display that Giles was actively performing.

“I think, Giles, that any situations that need to be handled, will fall to me – the Slayer – don't you agree?” A hard glare was added for dramatic effect, Buffy doing her best to leave the watcher under no illusions whatsoever that he might have of riding to her 'rescue'.

The table grew silent as Giles studied his Slayer's determined face for several long moments. Buffy held her breath, not wanting an argument now, after things had been going so well, but wanting to make sure her position on the subject of Spike was crystal clear. She let her breath out silently when Giles bowed his head slightly, barely enough to be considered acquiescence, but it was enough.

The mild tension was immediately broken by the waiter appearing with dessert menus and a list of coffees and teas. As the ordering was going on around them, Buffy leaned in to Spike's ear and whispered, “Guess that's about as close as we're gonna get to approval, huh?”

Turning slightly, he locked his azure gaze on her emerald eyes and smiled. “Don't care, pet. S'long as I have you, Joyce and Dawn, I could walk through hell an' back with a smile!” Leaning forward, he took his turn to whisper, “I love you, Buffy,” and captured her lips in another soft, sensual kiss.

'Damn it!' Buffy's brain screamed at her inside her own head. 'This is another pair of panties fit for the wash when I get home!' She couldn't seem to control her own body when Spike was concerned, and she was sure that her panties were sodden by now, what with the heat that was rising in her core, and the feeling of more and more of her cream slipping from inside her.

'OK, I seriously need to take care of this, tonight!' She began the arduous process of thinking of somewhere that she could go to... 'relieve' the pressure she was feeling. Once Spike was recovered, they could allow their relationship to evolve naturally to the point that her fantasies had envisioned, but right now, she would have to take care of this 'problem' herself. Just as her dessert of warm chocolate fudge cake was placed in front of her -- 'Hey! Slayer here! Calorie demanding job! I’m allowed!' -- the answer hit her:

Spike's Crypt!

He wasn't using it, and with the solid door, it was secure and could ensure no interruptions. So, with a smile that came not from her dessert, but the prospect of some relief, she happily set about utterly demolishing the warm fudge-y goodness in true Slayer fashion.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

The night air was cool and calm as Buffy made her way through one of the many cemeteries in Sunnydale, having made sure that everyone else had adequate arrangements to get home from the restaurant. Yet more words of thanks and praise had been levelled at Spike as the goodbyes were exchanged; Spike was tying his best to get used to them, but they still felt peculiar. Anya had expressed the frustration she was feeling at the moment, mentioning Xander and his now seemingly ever-present sullen mood and pre-occupation with Buffy and Spike's relationship.

“Honestly? You'd think that Buffy was HIS girlfriend, the way that he's been acting since you told him that you and Spike were going to be together! I don't understand it at all! He's been practically ignoring me, except to complain!”

Buffy tried her best to reassure Anya that Xander would calm down eventually and once he had, she would try her best to get through to him and set him straight.

Following her route that she had planned to end conveniently at Spike's crypt, she encountered only two seemingly stupid fledglings, both of which were perfectly content to dust themselves on Buffy's stake in their rush to attack her. All she had to do was hold her stake in front of her chest and allow the overly zealous vamps to impale themselves. 'Decidedly unsatisfying' would be the words of choice that she would use when Spike later asked her how her patrol went.

Still, dusting vamps, idiots though they were, was not the main focus of her night-time excursion. She needed privacy, if only for a while, something she could not be assured of at home. There was no two ways about it, Buffy was horny. Spike seemed to have awakened something within her. Something primal and instinctive. She had found herself trying desperately to balance the yearning that this force was giving her with the more emotional side of herself that wanted the loving and tenderness that she knew Spike would give her. At the moment, however, the scales were tipped heavily towards primal yearning, thus her search for privacy.

Reaching Spike's crypt, not a minute too soon in her estimation, as her channel was throbbing with need, she pushed open the door, and swept the dim interior with her eyes at the same time as extending her senses. Satisfied that she was alone, she moved through the upper level, seeing nothing extraordinary or out of place. Moving the stone slab that covered the entrance to the lower level proved to be no real struggle for her, her slayer strength making reasonably light work of it. It was heavy enough for Spike to be reasonably confident that no human could move it, and so it functioned fine for his needs, being vulnerable as he was to humans in general, and, with a slight flicker of worry, Xander in particular. Just as her mind was beginning to wander on that circumstance, and a more pronounced sense of worry began to filter through to her thoughts, she was brought out of her reverie by the sensation of liquid running slowly down her leg.

Apparently, her body was less concerned with Spike's safety than her brain was at this instant. Looking down into the darkness that was Spike's home, she realised, rather belatedly, that she had no light source. 'God! I am so mentally challenged!'

Shouting at her internal voice to 'shut up!' she looked around the crypt, using the moonlight that filtered in through the windows high on the crypt's walls to see by. She couldn't contain the breath of relief she exhaled upon spotting what looked like a cheap, throw-away plastic lighter lying on the arm of the chair in front of his T.V.

Snatching it up and testing it a few times, she pocketed it and turned back to the hole in the floor. Because of the lack of lighting, she thought it probably best to not just jump down into the darkness but instead, making out the top of it in the gloom, used the ladder that was propped up against the lower edge of the hole.

Reaching the bottom rung without incident, she sparked the lighter and peered into the dark. Moving with grace, she picked her way into the main chamber, and managed to just make out the silhouette of Spike's bed. Calling on her memory of the few times that she'd been here previously, she moved up to the left side of it and found the small, low table that she remembered had supported three thick pillar candles. They were still there, and still of a reasonable height, meaning that they would last for a while yet. Lighting them, she used the additional light to move to the other side of the bed and lit the candles that she found sitting on a rocky outcropping protruding from the wall of the chamber.

She paused and took in her surroundings. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, for a hole in the ground, Spike had done a good job of making it comfortable and feeling like it was lived in... homey, even cozy. An obviously scavenged bookcase stood along the wall opposite the bed, its shelves covered in books that Buffy couldn't read the titles of in the flickering glow of the candles. Well worn, soft rugs covered the ground, all of them sporting different designs, but not appearing to be too mismatched. Another armchair was placed on the other side of the bedside table with the candles, and a book lay closed on its arm.

Turning her gaze to the bed, her overheated pussy gave an involuntarily clench, once again signalling its need to be attended to. She could feel her moist panties squishing between her legs, and her clit throbbed relentlessly. 'God! I’ve never felt like this before!' She didn't need to investigate with her hand to know that she was burning hot and dripping wet. She'd been like this practically all day, wanting, yearning, for something to fill her, to be inside her, and if she'd had her way, it would have been Spike. More of her fantasies rose to the fore, and she couldn't stop the whimper that fell from her lips as her mind provided her all the material she knew that she'd need to try and satisfy herself, satisfy the relentless, burning desire inside her.

Shedding her clothing in a flash, she crawled onto Spike's bed, clad only in her underwear, and lay down, positioning herself on her left side, her weight on her legs, hip, ribs and elbow as she propped her head up on her left hand. Closing her eyes, she let her mind conjure the images that she most wanted, images of Spike touching her lightly, tracing his fingers over her skin, soft and slow, but with a passion burning behind his eyes.

Her hand was following her Fantasy-Spike's movements, tracing the skin of her stomach with feather-light softness, moving slowly upwards, over her ribcage, caressing her breast through the lacy material of her bra. She softly grazed her nipple, and gasped in response, her moist pussy once again clenching and squeezing. Her fingers found their way over the top of her bra, rolling her nipple between them, bringing it to an almost painful hardness, before moving to the other breast, and pebbling that nipple as well. Each indrawn breath raised her chest, and the small movements led to her nipples scraping and scratching against her bra blissfully. Sparks flew through her with each scrape; sparks that eventually found their way to her core, causing more cream to flow from her, more throbbing in her channel as her walls tightened and relaxed, as if searching for something to clamp down on and squeeze. She needed to have something inside her, something deep in her body. She needed Spike. She needed his cock, all of it, inside her.

Rolling onto her back and arching slightly, she removed her bra, and once again let her hands travel up her body, to cup and caress her delicate tits. Only, in her mind, it wasn't her hands, they were Spike's. He was stroking and squeezing her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples, all of it building the fire in her body to a raging inferno.

She could picture him moving up her body, placing kisses along his path from stomach to ribs to finally rest at her tits. One savage pinch, and she imagined it was him, biting down on her nipple, pulling a gasp from her, part ecstasy, part delicious, pleasurable pain. In her fantasy, Spike didn't speak, the only sound that broke the silence was Buffy's ragged breathing and her delicate whimpers and soft moans.

One hand came up to her neck, and stroking the unmarked side, the side untouched by Angel, the Master or Dracula, she imagined Spike was placing delicate kisses to the sensitized flesh there, all the while, keeping up his assault on her nipple with his talented fingers. While her mind was in her own world, one she shared with Fantasy-Spike, her body was most definitely firmly rooted in reality. The cool air of the crypt was wreaking havoc on her heated skin, and goosebumps were forming all over her, raising her sensitivity to almost mammoth proportions. The slightest touch, the gentlest whisper of breath had her reacting in such ways that someone would think she was in pain, and she nearly was. Over and over, her body shouted at her, screamed at her, to find Spike. 'Find Spike and let him fill me! Please! I need him! I need him inside me!'

It was all starting to close in on Buffy. The tension, the yearning, the sensitive skin, the burning of her core. It was all becoming too much, but at the same time, she knew it wasn't enough. It wouldn't be enough until the primal side that seemed to have awoken in her these last few days had gotten what she demanded, and what she demanded was Spike. Simply Spike. She wanted to feel him sliding into her body, touching those spots that were hidden, but yet she knew that he would find with expert ease. She wanted to see the look in his eyes as he pressed into her core, as he felt her heat engulf him. She wanted to look into those blue eyes of his as he buried his cock into her willing pussy over and over again, and she wanted to see and feel him as he exploded inside her. Her mind was doing its best to supply images to all these thoughts, and her hands, both of them now having returned to her breasts, were also doing their best to bring Buffy some kind of release, some kind of respite from the burning ache that was building in her tightening core.

With a final tug and pinch, Buffy's body arched slightly, lifting her back off the bed as a gentle ripple of pleasure passed through her muscles. It was nowhere near the destructive force of the orgasm Spike had ripped from her through his bite, but as it flowed gently through her, she felt some of the tension leave her, except for her aching centre. That, it seemed, was not satisfied … not in the least!

Regaining her breath quickly, she wasted no time in tracing her hands down her body and stripping away her panties in one quick motion, freeing her steaming hole. Her mind once again pictured Spike, this time poised between her legs, his eyes looking straight into hers as his tongue reached out and touched her. Her fingers slid easily between her swollen, pulsing petals, dripping with her juice, and liberally coating them with her desire. Buffy's fingers glided around her clit, not yet touching the yearning nubbin, down to her pulsing opening. Her channel throbbed in need, desperate for attention, needing to be filled, but she only teased the sensitive skin around her hole, sending white-hot fire racing though her veins. As her breathing quickened, she moved her fingers back to her clit, suddenly changing from teasing to more forceful touches. She rubbed at her bundle of nerves roughly, almost violently as her gasps filled the room, breaking the silence. 'OH SPIKE, YES! THERE, RIGHT THERE! PLEASE!'

Over and over again, she rubbed at her clit, her fingers being engulfed in the heat that was emanating from her pussy. Using one hand to keep her breasts sensitised by squeezing on them and pulling at her nipples, her other hand moved back down to trace her delicate, fleshy lips. She noted that she was leaking like a tap, something that had never happened to her before, not with her previous sexual partners and certainly not brought on by herself. It was a testament to how much her body desired Spike, and what she wanted him to do to her. Fantasy Spike was still tracing her folds with his tongue, gentle swipes and the occasional probe to her aching hole bringing her closer to the edge. Her fingers were almost being burned as the heat radiating from her core seemed to intensify as she touched and caressed herself, imagining it was Spike.

Finally, in time with the pictures behind her eyelids, she pressed a finger inside herself, gasping as she pushed through the clenching tightness of her sheath. She could feel her walls, slick and supple, accept the invasion as they moulded 'round her finger, her body still unsatisfied. It just wasn't enough. She wanted Spike, his length pushing through her, his girth stretching her and filling her. She wanted to feel all of him, inside her, throbbing, moving, pushing and pulling. She wanted to feel his weight on her, feel his strength, his soft skin, his gentle kisses, his aching hardness. Her finger was a poor substitute, but it was all she had. She tried to make up for its shortcomings by imagining it was Spike's, that he was the one invading her body, tracing her channel and pulling more pleasure from her. Even with this image in her mind, she needed more, and added another finger, this time stretching her sensitive entrance slightly, adding a slight burning sensation to the feeling of fullness inside her.

Taking a steadying breath, and clenching her eyes tightly, she increased the pace of her fingering, picturing Spike above her, his hips pushing against her in time with her movements as the thought of his cock filling her invaded her mind. 'Yes, Spike, oh baby, please, take me, please, PLEASE!'

Over and over, her fingers plunged into her core, the burning cream coating her walls allowing them to slide into her smoothly and quickly. She wished that she could go deeper, to touch the spots inside her that she couldn't reach, but she contented herself with the knowledge that Spike's length would be able to reach them, pummel them, batter them until she was a useless pile of flesh and bone.

Concentrating with all her might on her mind's eye, she pictured herself pulling Spike down on top of her, pressing her breasts to his chest as her hands flew to his hips, controlling his thrusts, trying to encourage him to go deeper, harder, faster. Her slayer instinct reared its head and screamed out in dissatisfaction and rage! The pictures in her brain were exactly what it wanted, Spike on top of her, close to her, inside her, his cock impaling her, becoming a part of her body. But all she had was a couple of fingers, it just wasn't enough!

Buffy was torn between sobbing in frustration, and moaning in pleasure. The feelings flowing through her were wonderful, the sensations beautiful, but at the same time, she couldn't quash the yearning that she was feeling for more, something just a little... ...more.

Her hand abandoned her breast and travelled down to join in the assault on her dripping, burning mound. Keeping up her rhythm of pumping in and out, she now circled her clit as well, applying a rolling pressure to it in the hopes of speeding her release.

Buffy's mind seemed to fracture at this point, the sensations producing two separate scenarios behind her eyes. The first, of Spike slipping his length deep inside her clenching pussy was ever present, and she relished the feelings that this evoked in her, at once primal and intimate. The thoughts of letting Spike inside her body while pulling him closer and deeper was at once thrilling and beautiful, and, oh how she wanted it. No longer the two of them-- separate and alone-- but both of them sharing her body, letting him become a part of her. The part of her that she hadn't known that she was missing.

The second image, that of Spike with his face buried between her legs, tonguing and sucking at her clit and lapping at her folds drove her wild with want. The images and thoughts of sharing so intimate and slightly dirty, at least to Buffy's inexperienced mind, an action caused her walls to clamp down on her fingers, squeezing them tightly, inadvertently slowing her pace. The image of Fantasy-Spike, his tongue plunging into her creaming hole, pulling her juices into his mouth and swallowing her down like it was the finest champagne, would forever be burned on her brain. At least, that was what she hoped, until she could replace it with the real thing.

That image suddenly sparked something else in her racing mind, a question that she hadn't thought of until that moment. She pictured Spike swallowing down her cream as he traced and licked the scorching flesh of her pussy, but what would happen when the time came for her to return the act? She'd never given a blow-job before. The idea of doing that to Riley had almost twisted her stomach, such was her level of objection. And as for Angel? Forget it! That had been her first sexual experience of any kind, there was no way that she was going to do that to him.

Her hands stilled in their movements. Images from earlier in the day burst into her mind. Her, on her knees, fingers buried inside herself as Spike slid into her mouth over and over again. A moan slipped from her lips and her sheath tightened in response. 'God, I want that! I REALLY want that. I want Spike in my mouth!' The thought of having Spike's cock in her mouth, sucking him slowly as he growled and moaned for her, it set her body aflame. To have that beautiful and powerful man completely at her mercy was an incredible turn-on, Buffy's level of arousal rising ever higher as the image became more and more clear.

She could almost hear his words as she took him into her mouth, hear his growls as she went deeper, hear him whimper as he touched the back of her throat, and shout in surprise as she pictured herself pushing forward, taking him down her throat. God, she wanted to do that, just to hear those noises and to see the look on his face as she sucked and swallowed around him.

The thought brought Buffy's slayer side to the surface fully, excited and tantalized by the power to elicit all those reactions from Spike. To have that deadly vampire at her mercy called strongly to something deep and primal within the slayer side of the woman.

'Oh, just think of it, his hands in our hair, holding us gently as we take him in. Looking into his eyes as we take him deeper and deeper, down our throat. Oh God, just imagine the look on his face as he cums for us! We get to swallow him down, just like he does for us. GOD! I WANT THAT! DON'T YOU WANT THAT?! WE CAN HAVE THAT!'

Buffy's slayer side was insistent about this, and would not be ignored on this point. She made it very clear to Buffy what it was that she wanted and the accompanying images did little else but lend more fuel to the already raging fire in her body. The thought of letting Spike cum in her mouth, and swallowing him down had her clenching and squeezing her temporarily forgotten fingers with her slicked walls, bringing her back to the moment.

Buffy's breath came faster, her heart thudding in her chest, beads of perspiration forming on her shin as she let that thought take centre stage in her mind. She resumed her pumping movements, skimming through her smooth, wet, aching flesh in earnest. Again, her brain provided her with two images simultaneously, one of her taking Spike's length into her mouth, and the other of Spike still lapping and suckling at her pussy. The images were so erotic, Buffy couldn't help but moan and writhe, her clit pulsing with energy as she slowly circled it, adding pressured pushes every now and again.

The thought of Spike emptying himself down her throat and filling her belly was so overwhelmingly dirty and hot that Buffy had her fingers in her mouth before she had even realised what she was doing. The need her body had to feel her swallow down something was too great, and her subconscious had kicked in and taken over for her. And so it was that she found herself sucking and licking her cream-covered fingers, swallowing her own essence down greedily. It turned out that this had a couple of rather surprising side-effects: not only did she discover, in her highly aroused state, that she loved the taste of her own pussy juice, but, even more shocking given her current level of horniness, it also seemed to fire her arousal levels up a notch. Without missing a beat, she hastily returned her fingers to her aching, burning hole and resumed her rhythm, all the while licking her lips of her spendings and swallowing them down as well.

The small, quiet rational voice at the back of her head, that had seemingly been on holiday since she'd ended up on Spike's bed, suddenly spoke up, 'That's fair, seeing as how I’m gonna let Spike have a taste. At least I know what I’m gonna be giving him!'

Though Buffy's eyes had been closed throughout that little 'tasting experiment', they flew open as a new image made its way from her imagination to her mind's eye. She once again pictured herself bent over on her knees and forearms, Spike slamming into her from behind with power and speed. She could see herself screaming out in pleasure, see her body trembling in rapture, her hair cascading in waves over her back and shoulders; she could hear her screams in her ears as she begged Spike to go deeper, to give her more, to break her and take her and make her his.

'Thank god for slayer stamina!' thought Buffy as once again, her motions sped up, her fingers almost a blur of movement as she fingered herself and rubbed at her clit. She'd never had sex in the doggy-style position, never been taken from behind, but if her fantasies were doing the position justice, then she wanted it, and once again, her slayer's instinct growled her approval at the images bombarding her.

Bathed in the golden glow of the candles, soft satin sheets beneath her, the cool air of the crypt prickling her over-heated skin, and Spike's scent filling her nostrils, she felt like everything was different. She'd never felt like this before; never been this crazed, this aroused, this wild and untamed, this primal. She'd never had such lurid and erotic fantasies, never felt such blissful pleasure as she touched herself. It felt amazing, liberating, like a dam inside her had shattered and released the woman from the confines of the girl … or perhaps it was the slayer that had been released. Either way, she never wanted to go back.

As much as part of her wished it would, the new-found bliss couldn't last forever, Buffy knew that, and so it was with almost a sense of relief, that she felt her climax finally approaching. It would finally happen for her, here, lying on Spike's bed, her pussy full of her fingers, her belly full of her own cream, and her mind picturing Spike slamming into her body from behind, Buffy would get the release that she'd sought since the day of the bite. Since Spike had awoken her … broken the dam inside her.

Her breathing hitched, her eyes screwed themselves tightly shut, the fingers of both of her hands went into a frenzy of motion, assaulting both her tightening channel and her throbbing clit with furious intensity. Her muscles seemed to coil themselves dangerously tight, pulling like bowstrings, arching her body deliciously.

Then, she knew it.
She knew fire.
She knew pleasure.
She knew... ...release. Heavenly, blissful release.

Her body froze for a single moment, a moment that seemed to span time itself, as Buffy tried to hold onto the rapture for one more moment, before the tension snapped, her muscles contracted and relaxed and her body was washed away with fire and pleasure. Her nerves sang in relief, her body rejoicing in the release of tension, and her mind drifted away, allowing only the physical to be processed by her brain. A sobbing whimper escaped her as she came, a palpable relief washing over her as the tension in her body uncoiled like a tightly-wound spring that had been set free of its bindings.

As she came back to herself, and her brain regained its ability to process thought and feelings, a dreamy smile graced her lips. 'Next time, Spike gets to help me.' Taking a deep, calming breath, Buffy smiled wider. That was right. The next time it would be her and Spike together, and she had no doubt in her mind that what would happen then would make this look like a candle comparing itself to a wild forest fire. She shivered at the thought.

Sitting up, she scanned the area around the bed, making sure that she could find all her clothes in the dwindling candlelight, before sinking back down again. She wanted a few more minutes to revel in the after-glow of her orgasm. The warmth that had pulsed through her with her release was still close to the surface of her skin, which was still deliciously sensitive to the cool air of the crypt. Closing her eyes as her hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her head, she let out a satisfied sigh. 'Mission accomplished.'

CHAPTER TWELVE:

Spike took one last look around the lower level of his crypt. It was bare, with a distinctly cold feel to it now. His bed had been disassembled, packed up and moved to a storage locker the day before. Everything else had been boxed up and taken to Buffy's house earlier in the day. Although it had served as his home for more than a year, the process of dismantling hadn't taken all that long, what with Joyce, Buffy and Dawn's assistance. That being said, it was mostly Joyce and Buffy that had done the majority of the helping, as Dawn had flitted about with her new camcorder, recording the event for 'posterity’s sake', as she'd described it. It seemed that Spike's financial gift to the Summers family was beginning to produce fruits, as it were. Quite why the occasion merited it was beyond Spike's understanding, but he had let her carry on regardless, she wasn't hurting anyone, and had generally stayed out of the way.

Carrying the final box of books up the ladder into the crypt's upper level, he placed them on the floor, and took an unneeded breath. The decision had been reached the day after the evening at the restaurant. With Spike back on his feet, the Summers' house had almost returned to normal, or, as normal as can be for a household containing a Slayer and a master vampire that were trying to develop a relationship. It had been agreed that Joyce could return to her room, and Spike would sleep in Buffy's room with her. This allowed Buffy to vacate the couch that had served her as a bed in recent days. Needless to say, Spike's brows had nearly met his hairline when this was suggested by Joyce! It was, however, on the whispered condition that there would be no 'funny business' under her roof. Spike had given his instant agreement to the condition and so found himself wrapped around Buffy that night, holding her as she slept. It was perfect. There was no other way to describe it, just perfect. But at the back of his mind, there was a scrap of awareness that pointed out to him that, although Buffy needed somebody as a partner, an equal, she also sought a slight hint of normality in her life. Something to try and counter the otherwise abnormal factors she experienced every day.

It had come to him there, that night, that maybe, just maybe, he could try and provide that for her. Something as simple as him having a suitable place to call home, and maybe, given enough time, somewhere Buffy could call home as well.

He'd voiced this revelation to Joyce and Buffy the following morning, to gauge their reactions. While Buffy was initially a little subdued in her enthusiasm, she had eventually warmed to the idea. It was soon decided that Spike would stay with them until he was in a position to move into his new house, which, over the top of his vehement objections, Joyce would use some of Spike's money to purchase. Given the amount, Joyce had declared that it would not matter in the least if she were to give Spike a third of the total to use to buy the place and to cater to his needs. Despite how he protested that he'd given them the money so they would be 'looked after', Joyce would have none of it, and wouldn't let him finish his many objections. She was determined that if Spike was going to have his own place, then it would be bought and paid for as a whole. She also pointed out that if Spike were to have a more hospitable abode, when the time came, it would be more appropriate should Dawn, Buffy, or herself ever want to visit him. She had left unsaid the feeling she had that there was a distinct possibility that Buffy would be spending more and more time there, and that it may actually come to the point that it would be more likely that Buffy would be visiting her!

And so, with those decisions made, Spike had begun looking through the property supplements of the daily newspaper, looking for a suitable apartment or, what he'd learned the Americans called, a 'cottage', or to him, a bungalow. One such 'cottage' had caught his eye. The house had consisted of a spacious living room, a perfectly functional bathroom, a truly well appointed kitchen and dining room, all on one floor, with a lavish, large, master bedroom and extravagant en suite bathroom and shower making up the second floor. Buffy and Joyce had scheduled a viewing for the weekend, and no doubt, Dawn would go along with her camcorder, so Spike could also see it. The issue of the windows had been relatively simple to cure, as Spike knew that Clem had a few contacts in the demon construction industry. As long as it wasn't revealed that it was being done for Spike, it should be no problem to have necro-tempered glass installed in all the windows. Problem solved.

With all those situations dealt with, or in hand, Spike came to find himself here, five days after the restaurant visit, with the last box of his possessions, ready to leave the dark, dusty hole in the ground. Leave what had been his home, with the hopes of beginning somewhere new, and with the possibility of sharing that beginning with Buffy.

Lighting a cigarette, he hopped up onto the sarcophagus in the centre of the crypt and took a drag. It was still amazing to him all that had happened since that night on the tower and the encounter with Glory and Doc. He'd saved Dawn. He'd kept his promise to Buffy that night. He'd protected her. But everything that had happened since was almost like a dream. He had Buffy. She'd made the choice to be with him, and at one time, that was everything he thought that he wanted. But he found now that it was also the support and affection, and, dare he say it, the love, of Joyce and Dawn that he craved, as well. He almost felt like he was being accepted as part of a family, which was something, a feeling, he'd never thought he'd truly feel again. Not since the death of his mother at his own hands.

Removing the cigarette from his mouth to flick the ash away, his eyes followed its progress down and to the left, and he spotted it. 'Bloody bit! She'd forget her head if it wasn't attached!'

Standing on its side, Dawn's new camcorder was sat on the cold stone of Spike's impromptu seat. Just as he reached for it, the crypt door slammed open with a deafening crash. Stood framed in it was the last person he thought he'd see, and certainly the last person he wanted to see.

“So, evil-dead, how's un-life going for everyone's favourite blood-sucker?” Xander spoke with a vitriolic contempt that infected every word.

Spike sighed, 'Great! Just what I needed!' “What do you want, Harris? Bit late for you to be out all on your own, innit? Does your keeper know you've toddled off?”

Xander took a step into the crypt and glanced around, taking in the lack of furniture and the box of books on the floor, and smiled gleefully. “So, finally took the hint, huh? Leaving Sunnydale? About time, if you ask me.”

“D'you 'ave to work to be that stupid, or s'it like a natural gift that just comes to you? Why, in the bloody fuck would I leave? I love Buffy and the bit, and Joyce as well, and they've accepted me into their lives. Why the hell would I leave that?”

Xander advanced into the crypt, keeping his contemptuous stare fixed on the vampire before him.
“You know they don't really care about you, right? I mean, all you've done is buy your way into their lives. They're grateful, sure, but that doesn't mean they really give a fuck about you, bleach boy! You're just a walking, talking bank account.”

Spike's brows furrowed slightly, a flash of doubt creeping into his mind for just an instant before being banished. Maybe, just maybe, Buffy might have treated him like that, but he seriously doubted it. But he knew, without question, that Joyce would never have treated him like that, never have used him and his feelings for all of them in that way.

“S'yeah, alright, mate. Keep telling yourself that. I haven't bought my way into anything my whole soddin' existence! I’ve had to fight and earn everything I’ve ever gotten, and this is no different. I’ve earned my place in Buffy's life, and one day, one day I’ll truly earn my place in her heart as well, just like I have with Joyce and Dawn.

“Know I’m not there yet with Buffy, but I’m trying, for her, and I’ll make her proud of me, no matter what you say! And I can hope that maybe, eventually, she'll love me like I love her. See, that's the difference between you and me, dough-boy. I try my best, and earn the things that come to me, whereas you coast along, and just expect to be given them! And why? 'Cos you're a human with a soul, as you love to go on and on about!

“What exactly was it that you did to earn that soul of yours, boy? Not a bloody thing! But ya think it entitles you to everything, don'tcha? Love, forgiveness, friendship, even your place in the Slayer's little Scooby-club! All the things that you tell me that I can't have, you get by default, because of that fucking soul of yours! How bloody convenient.” Still sitting on the sarcophagus, Spike's blue eyes blazed with disdain as he took a deep, angry drag from his cigarette, keeping his gaze riveted on the brunette.

Xander's glare hardened further as he made his way slowly across the nearly-empty crypt towards the chipped vampire. “Dress it up anyway you want, dead-boy, you're still nothing to them except a bit of extra muscle and a shit-load of stolen blood money! You'll see it eventually. Your money will run out, and you'll be kicked to the curb, just like you deserve. And maybe I didn't earn this soul of mine, but I still have it, don't I? Something you sure as shit don't! Sucks, huh? To know that you'll never be a part of her life the way that you want to be?”

“Oh, I wouldn't say that. I’m the one that's staying in her family's house, ain't I? While you're not welcome. I was the one that was invited to dinner with all the Scoobies, while you were told not to come, weren't ya?

“Looks to me like you're the one that may not have a place in her life for that much longer, you keep goin' the way y'are. Like I said, lackbrain, I’ve earned my place with Joyce, Buffy and Dawn. They want me in their life. That's good enough for me, an' lashings better than can be said for you. How does it feel, to know that they'd rather 'ave me in their lives, than you? That the love I feel for 'em is actually being returned?”

Xander felt something inside him snap; his blood seemed to suddenly boil in his veins as his anger overflowed. Spike dared to throw that in his face, the fact that the vampire had the Summers family's affection, while Xander had been ostracised!? Incensed, the brunette closed the space between them in a single stride and grabbed Spike by the lapels of his duster, his fingers digging into the leather.

Holding Spike in an unyielding grip, Xander got right in the vampire's face and ground out as harshly as he could, “We both know you can't love, you lying piece of shit! It's just a matter of time 'til they all figure it out, too, and they'll dump you like the lump of soulless demon garbage you are! You'll see. You'll be all alone, no-one to protect you, and then... … … I’m gonna do what Buffy should've done a loooonnng time ago! I’m gonna stake you, Spike. It'll be the best day of my life. I’ll finally be able to put an end to you.”

Spike pushed him off, jumping down from the sarcophagus and discarding his cigarette in the same motion. The vampire flowed with a predator's grace, though wincing as the chip fired, sending a twinge through him as he landed on his feet. “Fuck off, Harris. Reality called, they'd like you to come home now! I’ve been around since before you were twinklin' in yer dad's eye, and I’ll be around long after you're dead and forgotten! You really think I’m gonna let myself be ended by a pathetic poof like you? Face it, Harris, you're all mouth and no trousers.” Spike snorted inelegantly, his contempt and amusement at the idea warring for position on his features.

Xander seethed in anger as he pulled his fist back and launched it towards Spike's face. Spike saw it coming, had plenty of time to duck and move away, but thought it was about time to try and make a point. Xander's fist impacted Spike's cheek with as much power as he could apply to it, which was enough to turn Spike's head all of forty five degrees!

Slowly bringing his eyes to meet the raging carpenter, Spike smiled benignly.

“S'that all you got, ya poncy little prick? I thought you wanted it to hurt, not tickle! C'mon, 'ave another go, but really try this time, yeah?” Spike smirked at the slightly widened eyes of Xander. He'd clearly expected Spike to be floored by the punch.

Xander's chest heaved as his anger and frustration built. “You... bleached... bastard,” he grunted out as the carpenter responded with another right hay-maker, trying to put all his strength and weight behind the hit. This time the results were better, Spike's head rotated a full ninety degrees!

Spike let out a frustrated sounding sigh. “Oh, for the love of....Harris, for fuck's sake, stop trying to touch me up and HIT ME!” He could barely contain his mirth at the impotent rage that filled the brunette in front of him. At this rate, Spike was sure that Xander would hurt him, but it would take 'til the next millennium, and he had to admit, he really did have better things to do with his time than stand here and let Xander try and find his long missing masculinity and testosterone! Almost all of those 'better things' involved Buffy and her body!

The next punch had even less impact than the first, barely moving Spike's head at all, allowing the vampire to keep his eyes on the human the whole time.

“So, I’m guessing, judging by all these little love taps that you're giving me, demon-bird's not into the rough stuff? Gotta get your rocks off with me, have ya? Really flattered mate, but you're really not my type!” Spike added another smirk for good measure.

“Why you-- son of a bitch!” Xander threw another punch at the vampire's face, once again succeeding in turning Spike's head slightly.

Spike touched a finger to the corner of his mouth. “Nearly drew blood on that one, Special Ed....” he taunted, dropping his hand from his face and hooking his thumb casually over his belt-buckle.

Xander's chest heaved, his face was flushed and glistening with perspiration and his eyes were wild with frustrated rage. He flexed his hands, his knuckles aching from the impacts of his punches, as he glared daggers... or stakes, at the nonchalant vampire.

“I love a good slap an' a tickle as much as the next bloke, but just wonderin' what's got your panties in a bunch all sudden like,” Spike continued in a conversational tone. “Reckon I’ve always known you were a pathetic bugger with a yellow streak a mile wide runnin' down your back, but this is a bit cheap, even for you, innit?”

Spike smirked and tilted his head, considering the brunette a moment before prodding him further. “Wouldn't 'ave anything to do with Buffy and me, now would it? With 'er choosin' a vamp over a glorified brick-layer? That she's pickin' my monster, rather than the green-eyed one you're carryin' 'round?”

Once again, the monster that Spike alluded to in Xander's chest reared its head and roared, its rage filling the brunette's mind at the reminder that this... thing had Buffy. His anger flared at the full realisation that she was giving this soulless monster a 'chance' but had never truly given him one. He could make her happy! He could be everything she needed! All he needed was a chance to prove to her what he could be, how much he loved her... and once again a mass-murdering evil-dead was getting in his way.


“You fucking piece of shit!” Xander ground out through clenched teeth, his bruised hands curled into tight fists, his whole body vibrating with rage, his heart galloping in his chest. “What makes you think that you deserve her? I saw her first, I loved her first, and she chose fucking Angel over me! That filthy, disgusting thing got to have Buffy, got to fuck her, when she wouldn't give me the time of day! That's how that prick lost his fucking soul! He fucked Buffy... took her virginity! It should have been me! I should have been the one to have her, she should have been mine! I’m not gonna let another filthy parasite take her from me!”

Spike's eyes widened to epic proportions. To hear Xander speak about Buffy like that, like a … possession, he could barely contain his anger. It was obvious to Spike that Xander's rage and jealousy was making him speak without attempting to hide the truth from him, and it made him sick. This man was supposed to be her friend! He couldn't contain the growl that issued forth from his chest.

“So where does Anya fit in to all this jealousy then, eh? She just some place-holder for Buffy? Just some substitute? You disgust me, you fuckin' tit! From the sounds of it, demon-girl'd be better off without you! She wouldn't have to play second fiddle to Buffy without even knowing it!”

Another punch impacted Spike's face, such was its power, or lack thereof, Spike didn't even blink!

“SHUT UP! If Buffy had gotten jealous like she was supposed to, then I wouldn't be with Anya, and she'd be with someone who loved her! I’d be with Buffy and you'd have been dusted the day you turned up at Giles' door!”

Spike smirked again at the raging child in front of him. “And Buffy would be dead, wouldn't she? And Dawn... and the rest of the world, for that matter, idiot! Unless you were planning on figuring out how to stop Glory? That would be between stuffing your face with doughnuts and reading comics, I’m guessin'?”

Xander shook with anger, his blood racing like fire in his veins, a retort on his lips, but Spike beat him to it.

Spike hooked both his thumbs over his belt and stood casually in front of the raging man, keeping his voice conversational. “And, for the record, what makes you think you could satisfy Buffy? She's a slayer, remember? Ever think o' that? She's a right measure stronger than you, don't ya think? She'd break you in half if she lost control in the heat of the moment. Not that I can see you being capable of making her lose control, but I hear miracles happen now and again. If there can be a virgin birth, I reckon you could maybe find a way t' get the slayer off.”

Spike's face and voice suddenly hardened, his anger bubbling to the surface. He leaned in nearer the larger man, getting right in Xander's face. “Understand this, 'cos I don't wanna tell you again ... … You're not enough for her. You never will be. SHE'S. NOT. BLOODY. INTERESTED!”

Three rapid punches followed: a right, a left, and then another right. Spike disinterestedly reached into his duster pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. Tapping the bottom of the pack, he pulled out the protruding one with his lips. His anger back in check, he spoke calmly. “Listen, mate, I’d really appreciate it if you could stop tapping me while I smoke. Can't do it at Buffy's house, by order of Joyce, so I try and relish the ones I have, now that I’m out and about a bit more, that OK?”

Spike paused for a moment, becoming slightly... pensive, would be the best word for it.

“Mind you, if Buffy had her way, I’d stop all together. She says she doesn't like the smell, especially when she's sleeping next to me in her bed.”

The words were delivered in as mildly a conversational tone as Spike could muster, precisely calculated to at once infuriate Xander, and convey the fact that Spike really didn't consider Xander a threat in any way.

Another punch was aimed at his face, but Spike was ready. Timing it perfectly, he allowed his demon to come forth, shifting his features into his vampiric visage. Something that Xander was obviously unaware of, but through an evolutionary process, vampire skulls were strengthened by an unknown and supernatural force when the demon was brought forward. The result being, Xander had effectively just punched an inch of reinforced steel! Needless to say, it wasn't pretty.

Spike doubted that the boy had broken any bones, such was the lack of power that Xander could put behind the blow, but it was enough to stop him from continuing his assault. Calming his raging demon, Spike slipped back into his human features, lit the cigarette that he'd managed to keep in his pursed lips throughout the contact, and continued on in that relaxed tone of his, taunting Xander to the fullest.

“If you'd asked me before-hand, I’d have told you not to do that, you stupid twat! Now, if yer done breakin' your hand on m' face, I reckon it's time we get a few things clear. First up, I love Buffy. That's never gonna change. Get used to it. Second, I’m not leaving. Not for you, or anybody. Joyce, Dawn, and Buffy are what matter most to me in the world, so if you think that I’m gonna let a pitiful excuse for a man like you chase me away from them, you've got another think coming.

“Finally, just so we're clear. FUCK OFF! You're not good enough for Buffy, you know it, I know it and she bloody well knows it. You never will be. Grow up, and for God's sake, realize how lucky you are to have Anya! You're not good enough for her either, but for some unknown reason she's chosen to be with you, so man the fuck up and treat her right!”

While Spike talked, Xander flexed his fingers back and forth, checking to see if everything was still in working order. The vampire's words washed over him and rolled off, like water off a duck's back, with no impact in the slightest. All Xander could think was that Buffy was choosing this soulless, murdering bastard over him. HE deserved Buffy. He was human! HE had a soul. HE could make her happy. HE was the man Buffy should be with.

The beast inside Xander roared in rage that he was being passed over again, the pain in his hand fuelling his anger to epic proportions. He was beyond reason at that moment, beyond anything but complete and absolute, obsessive, white-hot rage. Such was the utter seething fury boiling inside him, exacerbated by the pain in his hand and the dagger that seemed to be twisting in his gut, Xander's words came out completely unfiltered, laced with poison, directly from the monster inside him. Raising his head to look into the eyes of the creature that he hated like no other, he spoke through clenched teeth.

“Remember this, Spike. She can't be there for you all the time. One day, when you least expect it, I’ll get you. And when I do, I want you to think back to this moment. And don't worry, I’ll give you plenty of time to do it. It won't be quick Spike, I promise you that. I’ll take my time, and enjoy every moment of it! You're not gonna get to keep her. She belongs to me! She should have been mine, and I will have her! She'll see.

“I let Angel have her, and look what happened! She got hurt and people died! For fuck's sake, she let a complete stranger fuck her! That prick, Parker, managed to get balls deep in her pussy, but me, the friend that's been by her side all these years? Nothing! What do I get? Some ex-demon filth that does nothing but embarrass me, ALL THE TIME! It's not fair, and so help me, I’m gonna change things. I'll have Buffy, and Anya can find someone else, someone that actually likes her, and doesn't care that she used to be a disgusting demon!”

Just as he opened his mouth to continue his acerbic rant, the door to Spike's crypt opened for the second occasion that evening, only this time Dawn walked in, accompanied by Willow and Tara.

“Hey, Spike, I forgot my camera and I was wonder-- Xander?” Dawn's eyes narrowed in suspicion at the young man's presence. “What are you doing here?” she asked, barely able to keep the hostility she felt at the sight of him in check.

The sudden interruption seemed to startle Xander out of his diatribe, and he inwardly cursed himself for being so forthcoming to Spike. The rage and jealousy that the beast had released in him had been so all-consuming, he'd spoken unchecked and without thought. He'd shared a lot more of his deepest, darkest thoughts with the vampire than he would have if left to his own devices, but at the same time, he knew that all that he'd said was true. Spike didn't deserve Buffy, he did. Anya really was a stand-in for Buffy, and as soon as he had the assurance that Buffy would be his, he would leave Anya without hesitation. He'd sacrificed a lot for Buffy, and it was time that he was given his reward, a reward that Spike would not take from him! Buffy was his to have, no-one else's.

Before he could reply however, Spike answered Dawn's question for him.

“S'alright, bit, he was just leaving. Came over for a friendly chat, s'all, didn't you, Harris?”

“Huh? Uh... yeah. I... uh... I was just leaving.”

Getting his raging emotions under control, Xander realized it wouldn't do to be seen by his friends and Buffy's sister as attacking Spike, verbally or physically. Not when he had to convince everybody that Spike was evil and should be dusted, or when he had to get Buffy to finally see him as the only man for her. He had to be the good guy here, at least in the eyes of everyone that mattered, and given his current status among the Summers family, it would not help his case in the least to be seen beating on Spike, however ineffective that had turned out to be. Turning on his heel, without a backward glance at the monster that was standing in the way of his dreams, or a word to the visitors to said monster's home, he made his exit.

Dawn turned back to Spike and fixed him with a hard stare. “So, wanna tell me what that was all about? What was he doing here?”

“Told you before, bit, he just stopped by to talk. He's still got his knickers in a knot 'bout me and Buffy, s'all. Seems to think that Buffy can do better than me. Can't say I disagree with him on that. She does deserve better than me, but she's giving me a chance, and I’m not gonna let her regret it. You know that, yeah?”

Dawn walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his middle. “I know, Spike. I know how much you love her. Don't worry about Xander, OK? He's in need of a major 'tude adjustment! I swear, it's getting harder and harder to not hit him every time I see him! I mean, I know he's not happy about it, but does he have to be such a jerk?!”

Spike chuckled and placed a kiss to the top of Dawn's head at the same time as giving her a reassuring squeeze.

“So, what brings you by at this time of night, huh?”

Dawn frowned for a moment, her brows furrowing, before her memory kicked in. “Oh yeah. I lost my camcorder, and I think I left it here. Have you seen it? Mom'll kill me if I have really lost it! I only got it yesterday!”

Reaching behind him, he deftly picked it up without looking and held it up in front of her face. “Am I gonna need to glue it to your hand, so you don't lose it again?” Spike enquired with a grin.

“Ha ha. Very funny. No, I’m sure I can keep track of it, without the glue, thank you very much!”

Dawn took it from him and slipped it into her pocket, not noticing the little red light on it shining away. It had recorded the entire confrontation.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

Buffy stood in the living room of what could soon be Spike's new home. Joyce was with the real-estate agent in the kitchen, no doubt talking about the financial arrangements that would need to be put in place, while Dawn was no-where to be seen. That, however, didn't mean that Buffy didn't know where she was. For a slim teenager, Buffy found it amazing that Dawn was able to make so much noise just by walking around upstairs. That girl didn't seem to know the meaning of the phrase 'tread lightly'! Taking in her surroundings, Buffy was pleased, to say the least. The cottage was beautiful. She couldn't help but admire the lavish bedroom and en-suite bathroom, both of which she hoped that she would be able to take full advantage of at some time in the future.

While the decisions had been made a week previously, Buffy had to admit, it was with some reluctance that she had agreed to let Spike leave her home. She and her family had enjoyed his company while he'd been their house-guest, not to mention the fact that Buffy got to share her home with a total hottie that she knew was hers for the taking! Talk about a much needed ego boost after her disastrous relationship with Riley. That was also part of the problem, however. As much as she liked having Spike around, it was becoming harder and harder to resist her more... carnal urges where the blond vampire was concerned. She knew that Spike was suffering as well, as his desire was a little harder to, shall we say, 'conceal'?

Every night since she had opened her bed to him, she could feel his arousal whenever the two of them curled up to go to sleep. It was another example of the liberation that her libido had received since the orgasmic bite that Spike had given her, but the feeling of his hard cock pressing against her, and the thoughts that went with it, were so primal and instinctive, she wanted to act on them immediately! Her mind was playing a never-ending, triple X rated, erotic movie in her head, the focus of which always involved her taking Spike's cock into her slippery channel and squeezing down on him, revelling in the feeling of her body being filled. Whether it be her riding Spike into the mattress, Spike on top of her moving slowly and deeply, or Buffy bent over, being taken from behind, the ending was always the same: She would look up from beneath him, into those blue orbs of his, as he released his load deep inside her body, her imagination trying its best to supply her with the feelings of every throb, pulse, spurt and splash, something that she'd never experienced for real in her sexual life. Angel hadn't actually managed to 'finish' before becoming soft, apparently, he suffered from a 'performance problem', and both Parker and Riley had, at her insistence, worn condoms.

It was something that the 'woman' and the 'Slayer' inside her were bitterly arguing over. Buffy's inner woman wanted the connection between her and Spike to deepen, and could think of nothing more intimate, romantic, and passionate than having Spike cum inside her, so she could accept a part of him into the most private and intimate part of her body. The Slayer, however, was determined to swallow Spike's cum down her throat and let it settle in her belly, fulfilling the burning, raw, primal, dirty fantasy that Buffy had thought of that night in Spike's crypt. Needless to say, the situation was at a stalemate, and she could not see a resolution on the horizon any-time soon!

She realised that she was getting way ahead of herself by running these thoughts through her head. Yes, the decision had been made by the pair of them that they would be together and try at a serious relationship, but they still had yet to have their first date! That was supposed to be scheduled for tonight, after the house viewing. They had talked about it, and the both of them had agreed that they would take their time, and not rush things. They both wanted things to work between them, and to that end, things would continue at a relatively sedate pace. She'd made the mistake of rushing into relationships before and it had gotten her nothing but hurt; she was determined to not make the same mistake this time.

Brought out of her musings by the heavy footfalls of Dawn coming down the stairs, Buffy tried her best to compose herself with a modicum of decorum and dignity, hastily checking that her chin wasn't covered in drool! 'Damn gorgeous vampire!'

“So, what d'ya think? Nice, right?” Buffy put to her sister, trying to penetrate the consciousness of the teen now in front of her, camcorder in hand.

“Oh my God, Buffy. It's awesome! I can't wait for Spike to move in here! It's so much nicer than the crypt, and easier to get to from home.”

Buffy couldn't deny either point Dawn raised. It was nicer than the crypt, for obvious reasons, among which, the inclusion of running water was pretty high on the list! And it wasn't all that far from the Summers' house either. She doubted whether herself or her mother would have any compunctions about letting Dawn visit on her own, as long as she left early enough to avoid being out after dark.

Before Buffy could respond, Dawn was away again, moving through the cottage, filming all the rooms that she'd covered in her initial 'tour'. Whether Spike wanted it or not, it would appear that he was most definitely gonna see the home that could soon be his.

Just as Buffy was beginning to feel a little lost and useless, Joyce appeared in the doorway, having apparently finished with the real estate agent.

“Well, that went well. I’ve gotten all the paperwork for Spike to look through, and since we've offered to buy the property outright, lock, stock and barrel, they say that they can hold the property for another week with no more offers being taken, giving Spike preferential treatment. So, all that's left is to see what Spike says, and take things from there. Now, where's Dawn? Time to go, I think. DAWN?!”

“COMING, MOM!” her voice rang through the house, and a few seconds later, she appeared in the doorway, tucking her camcorder into the front pocket of her jeans.

“Time to go, sweetie. Have you seen it all?”

“Yep!” Dawn responded, popping the 'p' at the end of her reply. “Spike will be able to see everything. We going now?”

Joyce nodded and began heading for the front door, her daughters in tow.

()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()

Because of the strangeness of their situation, what with Spike living with them, he'd made himself scarce as Buffy got herself ready for their date. It was a little weird, considering that they both knew that he'd be in her bed later that night, but Buffy appreciated his attempts at making things seem like a 'proper, normal' date.

He'd disappeared as soon as the sun was below the horizon, vowing to return to pick Buffy up for their evening out. She had no idea what he had planned for the two of them, but he had told her that she needn't worry about dressing up, adding in no uncertain terms that he found her beautiful no matter what she wore. Buffy guessed that maybe he wasn't gonna go all out on a ridiculously lavish and extravagant event, which was more than fine with her. She didn't want him to go to all the effort of making the night impossibly romantic, as it would set the bar ludicrously high for him to try and top the next time.

While she would appreciate the odd romantic gesture from Spike, she was a simple girl at heart, and anyway, if all their dates were worthy of a fairytale, she worried that maybe, over time, they would lose their true value and impact. In her opinion, it was better to make those kind of nights few and far between, so they could both truly treasure them.

As such, she found herself dressed in a simple pair of plain black trousers, tight enough to clearly show off her toned, firm behind, and a dark red halter top, again, tight enough to accentuate her chests 'assets' and showing off her toned back and shoulders. One of the advantages of living in California was the fact that, for an evening out, what she was wearing would be sufficient, as it rarely got truly cold, even at night.

Since the amount of time needed for her to get ready was so minuscule, she was able to relax a little and spend time with Dawn and Joyce, coming up with ever-increasingly romantic scenarios for her night with Spike. Turns out the three of them could conjure up endless romantic possibilities, even considering her simple attire.

*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()

Buffy could barely contain the smile that came to her lips as she opened the door and saw Spike standing there, never mind the clenching that was also taking place in areas of her body decidedly lower down. To her eyes, he looked amazing, although in truth he was dressed relatively casually, sporting a pair of black jeans, shiny black leather boots and a dark blue button-down shirt. In his hands was a bouquet of purple orchids, and his face wore an expressive smile, while in his eyes she saw a look of awe mixed with primal hunger.

Gathering his wits about him, them having left the moment he laid eyes on her, Spike presented the flowers to Buffy.

“You look beautiful, Buffy.”

“Thanks. You're not lookin' so bad either.”

She took the flowers from him, pausing momentarily to inhale the sweet scent, and gestured for him to come in. Again, the weirdness was left unstated, considering that this had effectively been Spike's home since his fall from the tower, but still, traditions or etiquette dictated certain actions, and the pair of them were determined to observe them, to treat this like a 'proper' date.

Joyce, who had been hovering by the door to the living room, observed as Buffy slipped away to the kitchen to find a vase. Stepping forward, she eyed Spike, smiling at his clearly nervous demeanour. “Spike, look at me.”

Spike met Joyce's eyes, taking in her warm, maternal smile, and blew out an unnecessary breath.

“You'll be fine, OK? It's just you and Buffy, no-one else, nothing else matters, just the two of you. Understand? Calm down and relax, alright?”

Spike ran a shaky hand back through his hair. “I know, I know. It's just... it's... well it's... it's Buffy, y'know? You know how I feel about her, Joyce. I want to do things right for once. I just want her to have a nice time, and not bollocks anything up, pardon my language. Think I can do that?”

Joyce smiled broadly. “You'll be fine, Spike, I promise.” Looking over Spike's shoulder, she spied Buffy returning, and proceeded to try and speed things along a little. “Well, go on, you two. Have fun!”

Buffy headed towards the front door, and just as she placed her hand on the handle, she felt Spike's on top of hers. Apparently, she'd gotten there a fraction of a second before Spike.

“Sorry, pet. Victorian habits and all. Hard to break after a century!”

“Oh, no, that's OK. I guess, with you, chivalry isn't dead after all.”

'God, that smile should be illegal!' Spike thought, as she pulled her hand back and allowed him to lead her out into the night.

All the while, Joyce watched on, with that small smile still firmly planted on her face.

Buffy threw her mother a casual wave as they walked down the path and onto the street. The night was warm and calm, and Buffy had to admit to a certain amount of nervous energy in herself. She had no idea what Spike had planned for the pair of them, and could now only wait, while the anticipation built, to see what would become of them.

*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()

'OK, this really wasn't what I had in mind,' Buffy thought as they slowly picked their way through the woods on the hill at the edge of town. She didn't really know what she had been thinking, but it most certainly hadn't included a wilderness hike! Thank God that she'd worn her boots, rather than something a little less practical.

All of a sudden Spike stopped and turned to face her in the middle of the path that they'd been following.

“I want you to close your eyes, OK, love? Just for a few seconds, alright?”

Buffy quirked a questioning brow, but smiled slightly, and closed her eyes, trusting him. She strove to keep her pulse steady and calm, the mystery and anticipation growing with every step as they continued on slowly, Spike leading her by the hand.

A few seconds later, they stopped again and Spike spoke softly, his voice cutting through the quiet night around them. “Open your eyes, Buffy.”

She opened them, and a soft gasp escaped her as she took in a true sight to behold. A small clearing, maybe ten meters in diameter, was before her. It was ringed in thick, white pillar candles, while tea lights in clear, cracked glass containers dangled and swayed in the branches of every tree within sight. There seemed to be as many flickering flames as there were stars in the sky. The whole clearing was bathed in a golden glow, giving it a soft, otherworldly feel. Spread out in the middle of the clearing was a thick blanket, with a picnic basket and cooler set on the ground next to it.

Turning to look at Spike, she took in his tentative expression. It was almost like he was waiting for her to laugh at him, or tell him that she didn't like what he'd done for her. Ignoring the pools that were gathering in her eyes, and the stinging sensation from the unshed tears, she smiled brightly and moved towards him. Cupping his face in her hands, she pressed a deep, warm kiss to his lips.

“It's beautiful, Spike,” she stated when they broke apart, allowing her to breathe once again. “How did you manage to do all this?”

Spike smiled, relief washing over him that she didn't think it was too sappy, or cheap, of him to take her on a moon and candle-lit picnic.

“I still have a few mates around that I can call if I need to. Clem mostly is the one to thank, he took care of the candles and such, and I gave him a list of things that I needed to be bought, and he got it for me. So... … you like it then, it's not too... poncy, or cheap? I could've spent loads on a night out but-”

“I love it! I don't need some ridiculously expensive date that costs a fortune, this,” she spread her arms to take in the beautiful vista before her, “is all I need, well, this, and you, of course.”

Spike took her into his arms and proceeded to kiss her like she'd never been kissed in her life. His movements were soft and slow, his hands tracing her bare back, bringing goosebumps to her skin, but they had nothing to do with the temperature. His tongue caressed hers in a slow dance, and once again, Buffy marvelled at his gentleness. It was passion and love and devotion, all rolled into one sensation. Forget Riley, or Angel and don't even bother mentioning Parker! This was a kiss. Spike made her feel more arousal and love and affection and emotion than either Riley or Angel ever had, even when they were trying their hardest! Spike did it with a single kiss!

'Ha! Told you,' Buffy's Slayer was purring with contentment. ' He gets us more horny with a single kiss than Riley could with his whole body AND with his dick inside us! Remind me again, why you made us both suffer through sex with that loser, when we could have had Spike?! Idiot!'

Buffy's inner girl took this moment to make an appearance, thankfully, by helping with the situation. Said help apparently consisting of knocking her opposite half over and sitting on her, allowing Buffy to revel in the emotions and sensations that were coursing through her. Once again, without anything explicitly sexual, Spike had reduced her to a ravenous, horny bitch, with a creaming, throbbing and clenching channel, and a porn movie running through her head!

'OK, seriously, this has to stop happening to me!' Clearly, her more rational mind was trying to make its presence felt, but Buffy's inner girl, and Slayer, apparently having been helped back to her feet by said traitorous inner girl, were both bombarding her with suggestions as to where to take things with Spike tonight, all of which were things that would not normally come up in polite conversation! One such suggestion, from the Slayer inside her, had her skin heat to epic proportions as she blushed fiercely. She'd never even thought about that before, about letting a man do that to her, about letting a man go...there! Still, it seemed to have piqued her inner girl's curiosity, and thankfully, the pair of them seemed to retreat, maybe to discuss such... things. Either way, Buffy was brought back to the moment by Spike breaking away from her, allowing her to take a breath into her burning lungs, having not even noticed the need she had to breathe.

'Damn sexy vampire!'

“So, you hungry, pet?” Spike whispered in her ear, in-between gentle nibbles and sucks on her earlobe and neck, respectively.

'Hell yes, I’m hungry! Just not for food!' Buffy's inner voice shouted, as if trying to make Spike hear it. Composing herself as best she could, she nodded her head and allowed herself to be led to the edge of the folded red and black checkered blanket spread on the ground.

Spike proceeded to remove all manner of things from the basket including fruit, a selection of cheeses and crackers, what looked like fajita style wraps of some kind, and what appeared to be another candle, only this one had a metal frame surrounding it that extended above it slightly.

Lighting it and placing it on the ground, he placed a silver container on top of the frame, and, opening an insulated flask that he also produced from the basket, proceeded to pour what appeared to be hot water into said container. At Buffy's enquiring expression, he just winked at her and carried on with his preparations, placing a shallow bowl on top of the water filled container. Producing a large bar of chocolate from the basket as well, he snapped it up into small sections and placed them in the bowl.

“There, it'll take a while, but it should work, I hope.”

Reaching once again into the seemingly full basket beside him, he withdrew two wine glasses and a corkscrew, and set them down. Turning slightly to reach into the cooler, he produced a bottle of white wine, and got on with the act of opening and pouring them both a drink.

Buffy gave him a wary look. She really didn't want to get inebriated and thus allow the Slayer and inner-girl to team up and take the helm. She was fairly sure those two would lead her down a very dirty road.

As if reading her mind, Spike assured her, “Don't fret, Buffy, it's low alcohol. You'd have to do a couple of bottles on your own for you to end up drunk, I promise.” He handed her a glass, and raised his own, “Anything you want to drink to?”

She sighed in relief and felt a warm glow bloom in her chest. Smiling through her gathering tears, she touched her glass to his and simply stated what she was thinking at that moment. “To the most perfect and thoughtful date I’ve ever heard of, let alone been on!”

Spike dropped his head for a moment, smiling to himself, before looking at her again. He had to admit, hearing that from Buffy went a long way to assuaging his worries that maybe he should have done something a little different. He knew how cliché a picnic was, but he just wanted their first date to be about them, and spending time with each other, not some ridiculously expensive night where he would be constantly worrying about things going well.'How bloody ironic', he thought, as here he was worrying that maybe the picnic wasn't the right choice!

They both took a sip of the sweet nectar he'd selected as they gazed into each other's eyes. With the wine still on her lips, Buffy leaned forward again, and placed a chaste and gentle kiss to Spike's lips. She'd honestly meant what she said. This truly was the most perfect, romantic and thoughtful date she'd ever experienced. Once again, the prejudiced arguments of others seemed to fill her head. How could she have been so stupid to ever believe that Spike couldn't love!? The man seemed to do nothing but that. A man who wore his heart so proudly on his sleeve, he'd nearly bled to death, for her. 'What exactly did I do to deserve him?' Buffy couldn't help but wonder.

Having laid out the assortment of food, Buffy helped herself to a wrap, finding it filled with a mixture of chicken and salad with a Caesar dressing. Eyeing the rest of the food, she was certain that Spike had obviously put a lot of thought and effort into tonight, and had to admit, that meant a great deal more to her than just whisking her off to an elaborate restaurant and throwing money at someone else to feed them.

Spike, however seemed to still be a little unsure. He dipped his head again and rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he enquired quietly, “Are you sure that this is alright, pet? Didn't really know what to bring for a picnic? Not exactly within my fields of experience.”

“Spike, it's perfect. Stop worrying, OK? Everything is wonderful. Thank you so much. I love it.”

The night was warm, but a soft, cool breeze blew in from the ocean, making the candles in the trees sway and the ones on the ground gutter, casting random patterns of golden light and deep shadow over their sanctuary. Up here, high above the city lights, it was easy to imagine that they were the only people in the world. Buffy thought that was fitting since, apart from her mom and Dawn, she had decided that this thing with Spike-- whatever it ended up being-- was no one else's business but hers and Spike's. She was suddenly doubly-happy that Spike chose this setting for their first date, just them, no chance of running into any of her so-called friends in town. She just wanted to spend this time with Spike, enjoy his company, getting to know him better, not getting upset by people who had no right to condemn her.

Most of the food disappeared in good time, leaving just the fruit and the odd piece of miscellaneous stuff here and there. Conversation flowed easily, comfortably between them, but was relatively nondescript, touching on various subjects that Buffy had heard Spike speak of during his time confined to bed or about plans for his new house.

Buffy felt completely at ease with Spike. He didn't treat her like an idiot, didn't talk down to her like Angel had. The stories he told her weren't blatantly boastful; they weren't told to prove his prowess or abilities to her, like Riley had always tried to do, instead they were meant to entertain, and usually to make her smile or laugh. And, on the flip-side, Buffy felt comfortable sharing stories with Spike that she would've been reticent to share with either Angel or Riley. Spike never chastised her for taking risks in battle, but rather seemed impressed with her victories, attributing them to her skill, no matter how large a role luck might've played.

“Make your own luck, pet,” he reminded her seriously. “Fortune favours the bold. Remember, 'Who dares, wins' as the S.A.S would say.”

When the conversation waned into a comfortable silence, they took the moment to lie down and stare up at the stars above them. Buffy watched as Spike picked up a strawberry, and dipped in the now-melted chocolate that he had set up earlier.

Bringing it to her lips, he watched with tightly controlled arousal as she first traced her tongue over the berry, tasting the chocolate, before taking a bite and allowing her eyes to close in bliss at the sweet tasting fruit.

“Hhhmmm, yummy!” Her smile lit up her face more so than the dozens of candles scattered around them, and Spike could barely contain his happiness at the knowledge that he was responsible for it. Buffy should smile more; after all her sacrifices, she deserved to be happy. A warm spark bloomed in Spike's heart to think that he could give her even a little sliver of the happiness she deserved.

“More, please,” she added with a slight girlish giggle, taking in his dumbfounded and awestruck expression.
'If he looks like that now, just imagine what he's gonna look like when we start sucking his cock!'

Apparently, Buffy's inner Slayer had decided to drop in and pay her another visit! 'SHUT UP! NOT NOW! I’M ENJOYING THIS!' After successfully banishing the uninvited guest to a closed off corner of her brain, Buffy brought herself back to the moment, and allowed Spike to serve her another chocolate covered strawberry. 'Kinda puts Riley and his brown apple slices to shame, huh? I mean, who goes for a picnic and doesn't bring chocolate!'

Leaning back once again and looking up at the stars, Buffy drank in the scene. Here she was, in a clearing in the woods, with Spike, on what could possibly be the most romantic night of her life. How had she gotten here? And now that she was here, she asked herself once again, why had it taken her so long?

Brought out of her contemplation by Spike's smooth, soft voice, she tuned her thoughts back in to what he was saying.

“You know, it's funny, but the sky that you're looking at right now... … it's older than I am. Isn't that strange? That some of those stars aren't even there anymore.”

Buffy frowned; 'huh' was just about the extent of her brain's reply to that. Deciding to give voice to that thought, she asked Spike, “What do you mean, how'd ya figure?”

Turning his head to look at her, he smiled at her puzzled expression. “Those stars are so far away, the light that we're seein' right now has been travellin' for thousands of years, so it's right likely that some of 'em have since exploded, and aren't even there anymore. What we're seeing is the light that left them thousands of years ago, so you're really looking into the past. Kinda weird, but brilliant, yeah?”

“I'm going with weird. Totally weird, 'giving me a headache' kinda weird, actually.”

She watched as he made a light chuckle and turned back to looking at the sky. A moment passed, and then she felt his hand moving to come into contact with hers. Without hesitation, their fingers entwined, and there they lay, staring into the past, their bodies rooted in the present, and their minds exploring and wishing for the future.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:

Leaving Spike to his sleep and dreams, Buffy rose with the permanent smile that had graced her face since the moment she awoke that morning to find him next to her, his arms encircling her waist. Slipping from his grasp and dressing silently, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen in search of breakfast, only to be confronted with two eager faces wanting details of the previous night's activities.

“Well, how'd it go? What did you do? Where did he take you? Was it nice? Huh? Huh?” Dawn's exuberance was obvious, due to the fact that Buffy couldn't get a word in edgewise! Joyce, however, was a little more measured and restrained in her enthusiasm.

“Dawn, calm down, let her speak. You're not the only one who wants to hear all about it!” she playfully chided her youngest, while turning enquiring eyes on her eldest.

“It was amazing, Mom! I’ve never had a date like it.”

Joyce took in the glow on her daughter's face, and smiled in reply.

Buffy proceeded to lay the whole night out for the pair of them, trying to include everything, from the food, to the location, to the effort that Spike had put in to dressing the clearing with candles and tea lights. She included their moments of stargazing, and some of the more adorable moments of Spike's insecurities, but she made a point of leaving out some of her more personal thoughts and feelings.

Joyce and Dawn listened attentively, smiling and gasping in all the right spots, and asking questions when they wanted to know things in greater detail.

Finally, with breakfast consumed and coffee drunk by Buffy and Joyce, the conversation moved away from Buffy's date, although it was with some reluctance that Dawn allowed the conversation to be steered away. She was living vicariously through Buffy, enjoying listening to what a date with Spike would entail and she wanted to drink in every drop of emotion and information Buffy could supply.

“So, what's the plan for today, anything going on?” Buffy enquired, having finally convinced Dawn that there really wasn't anything else to tell about last night, at least, not to her. If she was being brutally honest, she wasn't sure there was anybody that she would share some of her thoughts about Spike with, but, if pressed, she supposed that Willow and Tara would be her first stop. I mean, a girl's gotta be able to gush to someone, right?

Dawn piped up brightly, “Well, seeing as it's the weekend, and Janice is out of town, I’m gonna go to the Magic Box and show Willow and Tara Spike's place. They were asking about it, and what it looked like and stuff, but we hadn't seen it at the time, so I told them that I would film it and show them. That alright, Mom? You don't mind giving me a ride, do you?”

“Of course not, sweetie. I’ll come with you, since I don't really have much going on today anyway. The gallery's been quite busy, with rather a lot for me to do lately, so a day spent with nothing much to do sounds fun. What about you, Buffy? Any plans?”

“Well, since Spike hasn't seen what could be his new place yet, how about I bring him along in a little while, once he's up and around? He can use the tunnels, and we can all see it together? Sound OK?”

“Talking 'bout me, ladies?”

The three Summers women turned to see Spike standing in the shadowed doorway of the kitchen, jeans low on his hips, and his chest exposed. However inappropriate it might have been, what with their familial emotions for the vampire developing more and more every day, Dawn and Joyce both had a fleeting moment of jealousy. Dawn's adolescent crush came to the fore with gusto, while Joyce's more mature and womanly side was struck dumb at the sight of this sculpted male body in front of her. Those feelings quickly shifted to a sense of pride for Buffy, and how she'd managed to snag herself such a fine specimen.

Buffy smiled at Spike, taking in his body, feeling her nipples tightening against the material of her top, and her cavern gave an involuntary clench, as if reminding her of its presence. It took her a few moments to realise that all was quiet in the room, and turned her eyes to her mother and sister. What greeted her almost made her laugh out loud. The picture of both Joyce and Dawn openly staring at her man was too good to miss. Her Slayer side was growling possessively, but it was duly overridden and slapped down by her giggling human side.

Leaning over, she gave her mother a nudge with her shoulder, followed by addressing Dawn in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “Wipe the drool, Dawnie.”

Buffy then turned her attention back to the now smirking vampire. “Spike, you might want to save the shirtless-ness for Gratuitous Male Objectification Day,” Buffy chided him.

“When's that then, luv?”

“When you're not living in a house with three women, including my single mom and hormonal little sister!” Buffy let her eyes wander over his bare torso and down to his belt, before meeting his gaze with a pointed one of her own.

Taking in the flushed looks being aimed at him, the one on Joyce's face especially, Spike uttered a quick and sincere apology, and made a hasty retreat back upstairs. He had no problem with his body, why should he? And he had to admit he liked teasing Dawn a little bit, but to see Joyce looking at him in that way was certainly... … disconcerting, to say the least. He thought of her as the closest thing he had to a living mother, and no son should draw those kind of looks from his mum!

Stifling a chuckle, Buffy once again faced her family. “So, should I be worried? I mean, the pair of you were just checking out my boyfriend! I’m fairly sure you're NOT supposed to do that.”

Dawn turned an interesting shade of purple, before hiding her face in her hands and disappearing from the kitchen in a blur of colour and hair.

Joyce was able to maintain a more dignified stance, and simply turned back to the sink to rinse out her coffee mug. She could feel her daughter's gaze burning into the back of her head, and when she was sure that she had regained her composure, she turned back to face the eldest of her offspring.

“Sorry about that Buffy, I.. uh... well... he... uh... he took me by surprise is all.” Lowering her voice into a conspiratorial whisper, she continued on, “He really is, you know, quite... nice... to look at.”

Buffy couldn't contain herself any longer. Call it revenge for her mother laughing at her following the bite-induced orgasm incident, but Buffy let loose a very uncharacteristically girl-y laugh, causing her mother's face to flame, and she once again turned her attention back to the sink, trying desperately to find something interesting hidden there.

Satisfied that she had chastened her mother sufficiently, she traced Spike's footsteps upstairs, to find him fully dressed, and just about to rejoin his surrogate family.

Spotting the mad grin on her face, Spike couldn't resist, “What you grinning 'bout, little lady?”

“It turns out you have a bit of a fan club.”

Edging her way past him, she went into her room, still smiling, and readied herself for a shower. She couldn't deny, having Spike around certainly kept things interesting.

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“No, for the last time, I’m just saying, try not to do it again. I think you made him a little uncomfortable is all. He doesn't really mind, but it's... well... it's you, mom. You know how Spike feels about you, and I think you weirded him out a little is all. At least try to stop the drool from dribbling down your chin!”

Willow and Tara looked up at Buffy's playful tone as the Summers entourage entered the Magic Box. They could see that Buffy was grinning from ear to ear, Joyce looked... ... embarrassed, was the best word for it, while Dawn looked beyond mortified.

“Like I said, he just took me by surprise is all. I promise, it won't happen again,” Joyce countered. “And there was no drool!” she added in a low, insistent voice.

Willow broke into the conversation from her seat at the research table as the family moved towards them. “What's going on? What's with all the... looks?”

Buffy turned her amused expression towards the two witches and explained with barely contained humour, “Let's just say, Mom and Dawn have come to... appreciate, the more... physical aspects of Spike. He came downstairs this morning without his shirt. Oh, you should have seen them, Dawn lost the ability to speak, and Mom was staring at him like she'd never seen a guy before!”

Dawn's shouted, “BUFFY!!” was accompanied by a more stern, “Buffy, really!” from her mother, although the latter was obviously amused, and was struggling to withhold a smile. Dawn, however, was truly embarrassed, and made a beeline to the table, and a seat next to Tara, who immediately took her into a comforting hug. Luckily for the brunette witch, the teen buried her head in Tara's embrace, and so couldn't see the smile that she was sporting. Everybody knew of Dawn's crush on Spike, and so it was no surprise to either of the witches that the sight of a shirtless Spike could render Dawn catatonic.

It was at this moment that Giles appeared, followed closely by Anya, from the door that led to the basement. “What is going on up here?! I thought that we'd been invaded by a herd of very loud, English speaking elephants!”

Turning to face her watcher, Buffy once again recounted that mornings events, drawing a tired eye roll from Joyce and an inarticulate sound of protest from Dawn, somewhat muffled by the fact that she was still buried in the hug that Tara was giving her. When Buffy was finished regaling the new-comers with the story, Giles was furiously cleaning his glasses, avoiding anybody's eyes, and so Anya took that moment to voice her opinion.

“Oh, yes, I can certainly see how that could be very distracting. Spike really does have a very attractive body. You know, Dawn, you're just about reaching that age now where you'll start masturbating, and I’m sure Spike's body would certainly fit the--”

“OH MY GOD! ANYA! SHUT UP!” Buffy's shout echoed through the suddenly silent room. Joyce's face reddened to epic proportions, and Dawn let out another inarticulate noise, only this time it was loud enough that it left Tara with a ringing in her ears.

“Fine. I was just trying to be of help, y'know! There's nothing wrong with it! Everyone does it! I was only saying that Spike certainly has a body worth thinking about when she--”

“ANYA! STOP! JUST STOP! OK?” Buffy's insistence was clear to all who was within hearing distance.

“Fine! I’ll go finish up in the basement, seeing as how I’m not needed or wanted here.”

Joyce took in Anya's affronted look, and in a moment of compassion, decided to throw the ex-demon a life-line.

“Anya, dear, if you want to stay, it's fine, but please, try to keep in mind Dawn's age, and maybe adjust your topics of conversation? Maybe not so brash when it comes to things of a... sexual nature?”

“Fine. I can do that. I wasn't really aware that we weren't allowed to have those kinds of talks while Dawn was present. You do realise, in Bangladesh, girls Dawn's age are married and producing offspring, but that's OK, there's plenty of other things I can talk about. You like capitalism, don't you, Mrs. Summers? I mean, your gallery is successful, isn't it, so I would infer that you do.”

It was at that moment that Spike appeared, emerging from the basement, and so Joyce was spared Anya's treatise on western economic practices. Moving into the shop, Spike cast a smile and wave in Joyce's direction, and a wink at Dawn's suddenly upturned face before closing with Buffy and placing a chaste kiss to her lips.

Buffy couldn't deny the conflicting emotions swirling through her at that very moment. On the one hand, she really was expecting something a little more... intense from Spike, but, on the other hand, she thought it best to not have a buttery, throbbing and clenching pussy with so many of her friends in full view, not to mention her mother and little sister. It wasn't her fault that Spike's kisses were able to do that to her body! Not her fault in the slightest!

Failing to resist the urge, Buffy couldn't help but make a remark that she knew would have some impact on the room at large, and so spoke in a tone loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Hi, baby. So, you remembered your clothes this time, huh?”

Joyce flushed lightly, Dawn's head returned to Tara's body in a flash, although some very pink skin was still visible, while Anya nodded appreciatively, and the witches both giggled quietly.

Leaning over to whisper something in her girlfriend's ear conspiratorially, Willow pulled back with a grin at Tara's raised eyebrows, but nodded nonetheless.

Clearing her throat, Tara spoke strongly, no hint of her stammer in evidence.

“So, I hear that you gave the girls a bit of an eyeful this morning, huh, Spike?” Before he could reply, or anyone else could weigh in on the forming conversation, she continued on, “Well, Willow and I are feeling a little left out over here, so, how about it? You gonna take your shirt off again, just for us? Please?”

Spike knew, in an instant, that the witches were bluffing, being that they most definitely didn't bat for the home team, but never let it be said that Spike was one to turn down a request from a lady. In an eye-blink, he'd shrugged off his duster, which found itself thrown over the back of one of the chairs at the research table with pinpoint precision. He was just reaching for the neck of his t-shirt to pull it over his head before Buffy stepped in, grabbing his hands and preventing him from removing said garment.

“HEY! No asking my boyfriend to strip! That's so not gonna happen! You guys aren't even interested in... well...guys!”

Tara managed one sentence, “Well, that doesn't mean that we can't appreciate something on an aesthetic level,” before both her and Willow dissolved into unrestrained laughter.

Cuffing Spike round the back of his head lightly, Buffy stifled her smile and took the seat at the research table that had Spike's coat over it. Taking in Anya's slightly disappointed look, her inner girl was laughing hysterically, while her inner Slayer growled territorially. 'I guess Spike really is a hot commodity when it comes to us girls. YAY ME!'

Giles took in the scene unfolding around him with his usual British restraint and reserve, but it was not lost on him the ease with which Spike had melded into the group. Laughter, real, genuine laughter, had been in short supply as of late. Though Xander had tried his best to supply it, he wondered whether the others had started to notice that a lot of Xander's attempts had focused on making Spike the butt of the joke, and, in many cases, to make Xander himself appear more superior to the said vampire. It was a slightly troubling development that, thus far, Giles had decided to keep to himself, but had nonetheless decided to keep a watchful eye on, no pun intended.

Stirring himself from his thoughts, he made his way back to the basement to finish up the last of the reorganisation. Maybe, without Anya's interference, he'd be able to finally accomplish his task in good time.

In fact, so correct was his prediction, that he found himself once again back amongst everyone in the space of ten minutes, just as everyone was settling themselves down on chairs around one end of the table, with what appeared to be Willow's laptop in the middle, connected to a camcorder via a short length of cable.

“If I might enquire, what are we watching? I do hope it's not one of those dreadful reality shows.”

Joyce spoke up in answer, at the same time indicating the empty seat next to her. “Sit yourself down, Rupert. I was just about to come get you.” Once he was seated on his designated chair, Joyce lowered her voice so only he could hear her. “Dawn's making us watch a recording of Spike's new place. Just keep quiet and nod appreciatively every now and again, alright?”

“I think that may be within my range of abilities to do so, certainly.”

“A simple 'yes' would have sufficed, Rupert. Now, ssshhhh. If it keeps Dawn happy, then this is what we're gonna do.”

The images flashed up on the screen, clearly Dawn operating the camera as Spike's belongings from his crypt were sorted and boxed up.

“You can skip all this, Willow, this is just us helping Spike move out of his crypt,” Dawn indicated to the redhead, who duly reached over and hit the fast-forward button. The images flashed by the screen even faster, until, finally, the camera was set down in what looked like the upper portion of Spike's former home. A few frames could just be made out of Buffy, Dawn and Joyce leaving, and closing the door behind them. Then for a good while, all was still, prompting a question from Joyce- well, more of an observation, really.

Leaning over, and keeping her tone light, she addressed her youngest, “So, I’m thinking that maybe you forgot it, and that was what that trip to Spike's was all about the other day?”

Dawn was just about to respond when some movement caught everyone's eye and Willow hit 'play' on the laptop.

Spike had just wandered into the right edge of the frame, and, judging by the sounds in the crypt, lit a cigarette. Still keeping to the edge of the frame, he hoisted himself up onto what was presumably the sarcophagus, and settled in to having a smoke.

“Ooohhh, goody, I get to see what Spike gets up to when no-one's around,” Buffy teased, rubbing her hands together in gleeful satisfaction. “It's like candid camera,” she continued, clearly amused by the prospect, and was about to wonder aloud about it being 'G rated' or 'NC17' when the crypt door, fully in the centre of the picture, banged open to reveal Xander silhouetted in its frame.

Spike immediately knew what was gonna occur, having been there for this 'discussion', and made a move to reach the camera. “I don't reckon you lot need to see this, how about we fast forward to my new place, yeah?”

Joyce, however, was not so easily swayed, and reached out a hand to grip Spike by the wrist and pull him back to his seat. “I don't think so, Spike. I think I’d like to see just what happens here. Unless, of course there's something that you don't want us to see? Something that you did?”

Spike's stomach dropped, and a cold feeling settled itself there, showing no signs of leaving any time soon. He didn't want them to see this, not for his sake, but for the damage that he knew it would cause to everyone sitting here. A sense of failure set in, just like that night atop the tower with Doc. He was gonna fail again, there was nothing that he could do. He wasn't gonna be able to protect them, just like he hadn't protected Dawn.

Turning imploring eyes towards Buffy, he did his best in the split second he had to convey the meaning of his gaze, silently begging her to understand and take his side in this. He felt powerless. After all she'd done for him, he couldn't bring himself to fight with Joyce, despite the fact that he could easily overpower her. He had to get Buffy to understand and turn it off. It would do no good for any of them to see Xander's tirade; it would hurt all the people he loved most in the world, not to mention the demon-bird.

With his gaze still locked on Buffy's, he made another move for the camera. He had to stop this, but Buffy mistook his worried look for guilt, and latched onto her mother's line of thought and questioning. She gripped his wrist in an iron grip, stopping him again, then pushed him back into his chair with more force than was strictly necessary.

“Well? Something you did, huh?” Her voice came out a little colder than normal, and with a look of disappointment beginning to make its way across her features.

Spike was just about to answer, to protest vehemently, when Xander's voice, dripping with vile hatred and contempt, cut through the quiet of the crypt and the Magic Box. It was too late now. They were all going to see and hear what had transpired that day.

Spike sagged in his chair and closed his eyes. He let out a breath that he hadn't realised that he'd been holding and felt every drop of life leave his body with it. Yet again, when it counted, he'd failed to protect them.

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To say that you could have heard a pin drop would have been an understatement. Aside from a few gasps here and there in response to the language that was used, mostly by Xander, the assembly was stock-still and as silent as a crypt. It was the most emotionally painful situation that Spike had ever been in, at least one where the obvious solution wasn't to kill the thing responsible!

Xander's words were having a deeply profound effect on everyone present, but, he guessed, and rightly so, none more than on Buffy and Anya.

Spike's stomach churned with emotions ranging from shame to dread to fury to blood-curdling fear. He was ashamed he'd let it happen. He should have smashed the recorder to bits the moment that he'd realised what was happening! What the hell had he been thinking?! Obviously, he'd not been thinking at all, as usual! His bloody brain was about as useful as tits on a boar hog! And now everyone had seen it. He could smell the tears and adrenaline, he could hear the racing heartbeats, he could feel the anger pulsing and radiating throughout the room. Their mouths may be shocked into silence, but their bodies said more than words ever could.

He was afraid to look up. Afraid to see the hurt in Buffy's eyes. Afraid to see the sickened and appalled expression on her face. Afraid that if he made eye contact with her, all of her anger would crash upon him and he'd be kicked to the curb … or more likely, he'd meet a dusty end and be swept out to the curb with the rest of the rubbish. He'd let her down. Again. Yes, Xander started it, but Spike knew he'd pushed the boy's buttons, egged him on, and needled him into a fit of rage. And now the Slayer had seen it all in living colour. He'd blown it. The best thing in his miserable existence ripped to shreds by getting that little shit of a boy to admit the filthy truth and then allowing it to be witnessed by the people that it would wound the most.

Spike felt sick. His stomach felt like it was folding in on itself. His limbs felt weak and frozen in place, keeping him from placing himself at Buffy's feet and begging her for her forgiveness, begging her to give him another chance. He'd meant what he'd said to Xander. Every word. He wanted Buffy to be proud of him, wanted to show her that he could be a man for her, and not a monster. He wanted her to see that he was capable of love, that he loved her... and that he deserved her love in return.

But he didn't. That was all too clear now. He didn't deserve anything. So he simply sat, head bowed in shame, and waited for the final blow that she would deliver.

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Buffy zoned out when the screen showed Dawn coming into the crypt and Xander leaving. She didn't even realise that the video had progressed through several minutes of Dawn's tour of Spike's new house before Willow finally pressed the 'pause' button. She sat now, in a semi-stupor, her mind racing, her heart bleeding, her stomach full of angry birds, flapping and pecking mercilessly at her insides, wanting out. She felt the bile rise to the back of her throat, tasted the vile, acidic liquid before swallowing it back reflexively.

'This must be what Xander tastes all the time.' The thought was the first coherent one to register with her conscious mind in several minutes. She'd been drowning in hundreds of thoughts, but they'd been jumbled and crashing into each other like cars at a demolition derby as she watched her friend -- a man she thought was her friend – not only physically and verbally abuse her boyfriend, but … but …

Xander's callous, crazed words ricocheted around in her mind like a bullet, shredding her brain into painful splinters and making her woozy and sick again.

“What makes you think that you deserve her? I saw her first, I loved her first, and she chose fucking Angel over me! That filthy, disgusting thing got to have Buffy, got to fuck her, when she wouldn't give me the time of day! That's how that prick lost his fucking soul! He fucked Buffy... took her virginity! It should have been me! I should have been the one to have her, she should have been mine! I’m not gonna let another filthy parasite take her from me!”

Buffy felt like she finally understood the saying, 'You can't un-ring a bell.' She wanted to un-hear all of it; wanted to un-see it. But she couldn't. It was there. In her mind. In her ears. Burning her eyes with hot, salty tears. Making her heart bleed.

The things her so-called 'friend' had said, the vitriol in his voice, the language he'd used, it was inside her, part of her now … forever.

No matter how hard she tried to get them to stop, Xander's words continued to bombard Buffy's mind, enraging those birds in her stomach and twisting the dagger now firmly embedded in her heart. She could still hear Xander scream and shout at Spike that he should have been the one to 'have her', that she let a 'complete stranger get balls deep in her pussy', while she never gave him the time of day. The fact that, because he'd 'seen her first, loved her first', he should have been the one to sleep with her and take her virginity, it was all too much for her to take in. And that he'd only ever been with Anya to make her jealous? That was something so beyond her ability to process at the moment.

Buffy thought that Xander was her friend, that he liked her as a person, and enjoyed her company, but she could see now, after all that he'd said, that he'd spent the last five years forcing himself into her life with the hope that she'd finally give him a chance with her. The level of betrayal that she was feeling was beyond anything she'd ever felt. At least Angel becoming Angelus was an unconscious and uncontrollable incident, but this, this was premeditated and deliberate. Xander was only her friend because he wanted to 'have her'!

Buffy desperately wanted the sound of Xander's voice out of her head, but it refused to budge, just replaying all the worst parts. She clapped her hands over her ears, and squeezed her eyes closed, sending warm tears down her cheeks, but it didn't help at all. The words and images were still there, all of it, indelibly tattooed on her mind. Buffy couldn't understand what was happening to her, parts of her felt numb, she couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't really process anything, but the anger and hurt churning inside were so painful that she could only pray that the rest of her to go numb, just to stop it. She couldn't seem to process it all. She felt like her brain was going to explode, that her heart was going to bleed to death. It was too much. Too raw. Too powerful. The realisation was utterly and completely overwhelming.

Xander wasn't really her friend. He just wanted to fuck her. He saw her as his property to have. Like calling 'dibs' on the last cookie in the jar. Because he'd 'seen her first', she was supposed to belong to him?

Xander wasn't really her friend.

A sob broke her out of her internal monologue, the small release momentarily interrupting the vile sound of Xander's voice in her head and pausing the endless video loop of him punching Spike in the face. She dropped her hands from her ears and managed to blink her eyes open. Her tear-blurred gaze landed on Anya. The ex-demon had tears running down her cheeks unchecked, salty pain dripping from her chin, and suddenly the numbness in Buffy's limbs vanished as she realised she wasn't really the most injured party here, Anya was.

Buffy's movements towards Anya seemed to pull everyone out of their stunned stupor, and it was in those few seconds that the room erupted into a furore of noise.

“BLOODY HELL!” “THAT SON OF A BITCH!” “I CAN'T BELIEVE XANDER WOULD SAY THOSE THINGS!” Giles, Joyce and Willow all spoke simultaneously, their outbursts melding into each other. Buffy ignored them as she continued on her path towards a clearly distraught Anya.

Sitting down in the chair next to the ex-demon, Buffy took Anya's hand in hers and looked at the weeping woman. Words were beyond her at that point, and once again, silence prevailed over the shop.

Taking a deep breath, doing her best to compose herself, Anya spoke through her tears, her voice shaky and racked with emotion. However, they were not addressed to Buffy, but to Spike, who was sitting stock still with his head bowed, doing his best impression of a piece of furniture, lest he be brought into the conversation.

“You're a good person, Spike.”

The vampire's head flew up at this statement, and he locked eyes with the tearful ex-demon in front of him. A confused, questioning expression was all that was needed for Anya to elaborate, though it was clearly difficult through her tears and barely concealed sobs.

“I heard... what you said... ... about Buffy... and Dawn... and Joyce... …. …. and me. You... you really do... … love them. You stood up... to... … … … … him. You weren't gonna let him... … drive you away.”

Turning back to Buffy, and placing her other hand over the one holding hers, Anya spoke as best she could. “You're very lucky... … to have him.” Looking over at Dawn and Joyce, the latter of whose heart broke for the younger woman, she added with a wan smile, “You all are.”

Buffy's throat closed up and the tears that had been just trickling from her eyes suddenly became a flood, matching Anya's. The man she thought had been her friend all these years had turned out to be someone who simply wanted to 'have her', to cage her and control her, and the man who had been her enemy had turned out to be the one who wanted to set her free.

Spike had never asked her to be anything but what she was; he never tried to control her or change her-- sure, he tried to kill her before, but that was just the obligatory mortal enemies dance. Now he just loved her for who she was. He'd been honest about his feelings, even when he knew she wouldn't reciprocate, even when he knew he'd be ridiculed. Unlike Xander, Spike had never pretended to be anything but who he was. He'd stood by her and her family, protected them, putting his own life in mortal jeopardy, even when she'd given him no hope of earning her love. He just kept trying. Yes, he stumbled and fell a few times along the way, but he always got back up and tried to be a better man … for her.

Buffy's head was spinning, her heart was unsure whether it should rejoice with the ever-deepening feeling of pride and affection she felt for Spike or break from the betrayal of one of her closest friends. She tried to speak, to reply to Anya, but another sob was all she could manage to get past her heart, which had lodged in her throat.

Dawn took the opportunity during the ensuing silence after Anya's declaration to speak up, her emotions overflowing as well. She aimed an angry look at Spike, and accused, “You lied to me! You looked me right in the eye, and lied to me. You told me he just came by to talk. It's right there, at the end, everyone saw it! You. Lied. To. Me.”

Spike turned his shocked gaze away from Anya and settled it on the bit. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, feeling he had no choice but to speak up in his defence. In truth, he would've rather remained part of the furniture, preferring that to being part of the dust on the floor, as he still had no idea what Buffy was really thinking. Did she blame him for egging the little git on? Xander had certainly been part of her life much longer than Spike had; it wouldn't be the first time she'd taken the side of one of the Scoobies over him.

He hadn't meant for this to happen. He never intended anyone to know about Xander's mad rant, most especially not Anya or Buffy. He would do anything now to undo it, but there was no way to take it back, to erase what they'd seen and heard and felt. He should've fought harder to stop it … should've done something more. Because of him, Buffy and Anya were sobbing uncontrollably … all because he'd failed … again.

His words came out hoarsely as he addressed Dawn while trying to hold his own emotions in check. “I thought it was for the best, Nibblet. Never wanted this to happen.” He spread his arms, taking in everyone around him. Hurt and betrayal shone on everyone's faces, with the exception of Giles, who was pacing the floor of the shop with a tight, controlled expression on his face. Clearly, his English restraint was being sorely tested, and he looked like he was shaking slightly with barely shackled rage.

Spike continued on, still speaking to Dawn directly, “And I didn't lie, technically. He did come 'round t' 'ave a chat, just didn't have nice things to say. 'Sides, what was I supposed to say to you? You reckon I should have gone on about it all? How would that have made you feel, Bit? Would’ve been in a right state, just like you are right now, and I would have been the one to make you feel that way, if you'd believed me, that is. I wasn't gonna do that to you, to any of you. Was keeping that little chat t' m'self. I don't give a buggering blue fu--” Spike stopped short and cleared his throat a moment, recomposing himself, trying to reign in his anger before he continued. He didn't completely succeed. “I don't care 'bout 'im, hell, I don't even care about me! Got me some thick skin, I have, I can take it, but you, and Buffy, and Joyce? NO! That was NOT gonna happen! I was not gonna let him hurt you!”

Dawn's eyes fell to the floor for a moment as a slight prickle of shame invaded her mind. This situation wasn't about her, or what Spike had said to her. It was about Buffy and Anya, and, she realised, it was about Spike. Throwing away her misplaced anger for just that: misplaced, she took a moment to really take in what had happened, and what Spike had done. He'd laid out his deepest feelings for Xander to hear, without hesitation. His feelings for Buffy, herself, and her mother, and hadn't batted an eyelid when Xander tried to denigrate him and his achievements. He stood fast and firm for the family that he loved, and had left Xander in no doubt about his love for them all. Taking in all this information as fast as her brain could process it, it was with some genuine pride in him that Dawn met his gaze once again.

The smallest ghost of a smile was gracing Dawn's features as she spoke again. “Anya's right. You ARE a good person, Spike.” She stood from her seat next to her mother and advanced on Spike, picking her way past Joyce, Willow and Tara, before coming to rest in front of the vampire that she thought of as her big brother. Her lip trembled for a moment as she took in his wary expression before launching herself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug and promptly burst into tears. “I'm... sorry... for... yelling... at... you. I... didn't... mean... it.”

Spike wrapped his arms around her, and rested his cheek against the top of her head looking at Joyce, Buffy and Anya. “Sssshhhh, no worries, Dawnie. I promise, it's alright. Thick skin, remember?”

Dawn's sudden outburst seemed to shatter the shocked, numb atrophy that everyone was feeling. Within seconds, Anya was surrounded by Willow and Tara, who were doing their best to comfort and console the heart-broken woman, while Spike found himself face to face with the remainder of the Summers family.

“I'm sorry, Joyce, I just didn't know what to-”

“It's alright, Spike. You didn't do anything wrong. In fact, it's me that owes you an apology. As Anya pointed out, I heard what you said, about Dawn and Buffy and me. That meant a lot to me. You're a good boy, Spike. And I understand why you kept it to yourself. It's OK.” She tried her best to throw in a reassuring smile, to try and remove that shaken, almost scared look from his face.

Buffy also faced him, swiping at her wet cheeks and puffy eyes with her fingers. Once again she felt her heart clench in her chest and try to rise up into her throat, and the angry birds in her belly begin to peck at her insides again. He looked ashamed and more terrified than she'd ever seen him. Facing a hell-god didn't scare Spike, fighting a demon thrice his size wouldn't faze him, even taking on a Slayer didn't daunt him, but facing her now, not as the Slayer, but just as Buffy, seemed to reduce him to a wary, frightened boy. She could tell he was afraid that he'd screwed up, that she was gonna leave him … or worse. How could she let him know that he'd done nothing wrong, that hearing his spirited defence of her family and his feelings for them was the one shining thing in the pit of darkness that she'd found herself thrust into?

Dawn had retreated at the sound of her mother's voice, leaving Spike with empty arms. Buffy wasted no time whatsoever in filling them, enfolding him in her loving embrace and squeezing him tightly. He rocked her back and forth, stroking her back as she let her body melt against his. She tried to pour reassurance into the embrace, trying to convey that they were still OK, and that she wasn't going anywhere. She pulled back, cupped his face in her hands and kissed him softly.

“It's OK, Spike, like Mom said, you didn't do anything wrong, OK?-It's alright. I was the one that was wrong. I should have trusted you.”

Spike swallowed hard, his blue eyes now bright with unshed tears as he gazed into her shimmering green orbs. “I know, I just... for a minute there...” He let the sentence trail off and rested his forehead against hers, his grip on her now having become a little looser, his fear that she was gonna pull away from him assuaged.

Buffy closed her eyes and leaned into him, still holding him tightly, hoping he could feel her respect and pride and affection flowing from her heart to his. She was suddenly more angry at Xander for making Spike feel afraid than she was for anything else her 'friend' had done and said about her. Spike may claim to have a thick skin, and perhaps with most people he did, but not with her. With her, it was paper-thin; with her he was on shaky ground, never sure if she was going to pull the plug on this whole 'give Spike a try' idea. She didn't know how to assuage that fear, but Buffy realised she needed to find a way … soon.

Behind the weeping, hugging group at the table, Giles was seething in anger, his English restraint pushed to its absolute limits. This... boy that they'd allowed into their lives, that he'd allowed into the life of his Slayer... words were beyond him at this point. The betrayal and anger that he was feeling was something that he'd never imagined, and not only on behalf of Buffy, but to hear him talk about Anya in that way, like she was a disposable object, just keeping him satisfied until he could, in his mind, 'have' Buffy. Giles' only thought was that it had better be Willow or Tara that found and spoke to him first, 'cos he was sure that the damage that he would do to Xander would be something that the teen would take a long time to recover from. That was, if Buffy didn't get a hold of him first, and even with the chip, he was fairly certain that Spike would rip the boy limb from limb. That thought gave him pause for a moment. Would he really intervene on Xander's behalf, if Spike chose to deal with the matter himself? It was an ethical quandary that, at this point in time, Giles had to admit to a certain amount of problems answering.

Taking in the unusual pair in front of him, vampire and Slayer, he had to seriously wonder if there was anything on the planet that could withstand their wrath. Lord help Xander if that wrath was ever fully turned in his direction.

Chapter Fifteen:

It was a subdued group that left the Magic Box that night, the situation with Xander and the tape having taken a heavy emotional toll on all involved. Few words were exchanged between them as they moved as a group, Dawn having suggested that pizza and ice cream at their house would be a good idea. Deciding that it would be better than everyone going their separate ways, an agreement had been easily reached. And so, anticipating an evening filled with comfort food at the Summers' house, they began the short walk to the cars, the night cool and calm around them, a stark contrast to the storms raging in them all.

Buffy made a particular point of sticking closely to Spike's side, trying her best to reassure the vampire through her presence that she was not angry with him. The conversation they had shared in the shop was the best that Buffy was capable of, given the feelings swirling inside her, but she was sure that he would need a little more in terms of re-enforcement when they got home.

Strangely, whereas she'd found Riley's desire for validation, attention, and reassurance annoying, to say the least, her attitude towards Spike was totally different. She understood his worries and feelings. She'd been able to glean enough from him and his body language that she thought she knew what was eating at him. He felt like he'd failed her, and for him, he felt like he'd failed her again, the night with Glory and the tower being the other circumstance in his mind. The difference was stark, at least to her: Riley wanted reassurance for his own ends, to make himself feel like he was desired and needed, to feel important and part of the group. Spike only cared about her, her feelings, her life, her family. Whether she wanted him to or not, he would do all he could to protect her, even at the expense of his well-being, his life, if necessary. However, far from being pissed off, she had to admit it was a truly wonderful feeling to know that there was someone in the world who would do all he could for her, simply because he loved her with all that he was.

So deep in her thoughts was she, her emotions rolling and cresting, that she didn't detect the approach of what, for Sunnydale standards, was a rather large vampire 'pack'. Her first indication was the impact of a heavy fist coming from nowhere, striking her hard in the back of her head, sending her to the floor, a burst of white light flashing in her mind and eyes.

Recovering as quickly as a Slayer should, she turned and took in the scene unfolding around her.
Luckily, the attack on Buffy had brought everyone to attention to what was going around them.

Tara, Willow and Anya had linked hands, and presumably magical abilities, and had summoned a bubble of energy, surrounding themselves and, to Buffy's relief, Dawn and Giles. Joyce was the only one, aside from Spike and herself, that was vulnerable. Unfortunately, Joyce was also the closest to the attacking vamps, and with a sharp, terrified scream, she was grabbed, and pulled away with a violent jerk.

Buffy watched in horror as the spot where her mom had been standing only a moment before filled with the advancing members of the pack. She could no longer see her mother, but based on the shriek and screams, Joyce was being pushed through the throng towards the back of the group-- further and further into danger. Buffy reacted instinctively, leaping to her feet, but had managed only a single step before she froze in place, startled into stillness by what happened next.

Spike, having also been on the receiving end of the vamp's opening volley, had picked himself up and, with a grin at the impending promise of a fight, was about to wade into the offending creatures and release some of his pent-up rage, when Joyce's scream reached his ears. His head whipped around toward the sound in time to see her being taken, the pack parting to allow her to be shoved back into their midst, and then reforming, blocking her from view. In that instant, Spike's grin turned into a murderous glare of rage and hatred.

Buffy stood transfixed as Spike let out a deep, full throated growl that quickly changed into an ear-splitting roar so loud that everyone had to cover their ears. She'd never heard a noise like it, so raw and primal, akin to the roar of a lion, but deeper, louder and more... … animalistic. The sound of breaking glass and blaring alarms erupted around them as near-by business and car windows shattered, and Buffy felt a pressure-wave impact her chest, knocking her back a step. Before she could react further, Spike had launched himself at the, to her eyes, ten or so vamps. She knew she needed to join him, to help him, to fight, to get to Joyce, but she didn't seem able to move at the moment. She stood, rooted, mesmerized, and perhaps literally hypnotized by the raw power that was vibrating the air as Spike headed into the fray after her mother.

It was in that moment, Buffy fully came to realise that Spike really was a MASTER vampire. She also knew in that one moment, after all these years, just how much Spike had been holding back and teasing her when they fought. She watched, astonished, as he proceeded to destroy the pack, his every move vicious, calculated and devastating, to a degree that she had never before witnessed. It became clear to her, with no reservations, that if Spike had ever wanted her truly dead, she would have been. There was no question of that in her mind. She'd apparently never really seen or experienced Spike at his best, as it were. If she had, she knew that she wouldn't have stood a chance. Even now, with all the years of experience she had accrued, she knew, deep down, that she couldn't compete with him. He was simply... better than her.

He moved with a predators grace, his movements fluid, liquid, but his impacts were akin to a car crash. The first vampire, a jeans and denim shirt clad brunette, was on the ground in a flash, Spike having upper-cutted him hard enough to break his neck with an audible 'CRACK'. The next vampire, who just so happened to have a passing resemblance to Riley, being tall, lean, with a clean lined face and a slightly vacant expression, received a kick to his balls that made the Slayer, and all the onlookers, wince. His scream was a piecing shriek of incalculable pain; such was the power that she was sure that Spike had just shattered his pelvis, never mind turning his bollocks into paste! Another, this time wearing attire similar to Spike himself, in that it was all black, grabbed Spike by his duster, and delivered a punishing head-butt to the blond. Spike smirked, shrugged the blow off as inconsequential, adjusted his grip to hold the vamp by the head, and returned it with enough force to cave the vamp's skull in. Blood, bone and brain matter was released in a fine mist, staining the concrete beneath them a deep, dark colour, the moist sheen showing clearly under the muted lighting provided by the street lamps.

Buffy's instinct once again reared its head and demanded her to jump into the battle beside him, to protect not only her mother, but to protect Spike. She'd only just begun to let herself see him, and she couldn't bear the thought of losing him, but the more practical, and tactical, side of her brain won out. By keeping herself out of the fight, she allowed Spike to concentrate on the battle as a whole. Her intervention would only result in another variable that he would have to account for and keep track of, which could be detrimental to his performance, as he would naturally have to change his tactics. He would have to fight as part of a group, rather than on his own. Keeping the engagement as small as possible allowed Spike the freedom to manoeuvre as the situation dictated, and improvise as required.

And so they all stood, watching in awe as Spike rampaged through the demons, hell-bent on punishing them for daring to touch Joyce.

*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()

Spike was... well... Spike didn't know what he was. The sound of Joyce's scream had pierced him to his very core. The rage he was feeling was beyond anything that he'd ever experienced. Releasing his demon with a deafening roar of dominance, he charged forward, heading into the fray after Joyce. He'd never before given so much freedom to his demon, never before released its fury and rage so purely, but Joyce's scream had severed something inside him, and he had no intention of trying to control his beast. Theses vampires had attacked a member of his family. Now they would reap the consequences.

Spike's first victim, the denim clad 90's reject, was on the floor before he knew what had happened, Spike having given him an uppercut powerful enough to snap the vamp's neck, leaving him immobilised in his tracks. The next one, Spike couldn't help but notice, bore a slight similarity to that wanker of a Iowa corn-pone that had abandoned Buffy. The Riley look-alike aimed a punch that Spike easily saw coming. Reacting instinctively, Spike dropped his head and shoulders, ducking to the left, and upon straightening, he aimed a kick to the vampire's groin. He felt the body give way under the impact, and heard something obviously breaking as the bigger vamp dropped to the ground with a high pitched scream of agony. This was silenced with a well placed stamp of Spike's boot on the vampire's neck, severing his head, and showering the floor with dust.

Having seen his friend die so brutally, the next vampire, who obviously fancied himself as being intimidating in his all black clothing, grabbed Spike by the lapels of his leather duster and aimed a head-butt at the marauding master. The result was highly... 'unsatisfactory', to say the least. Spike couldn't help the small smirk that graced his features as he shook his head a touch to the left, grabbed him, and repaid the offender in kind, and Spike's head won, again. The vamp dropped to the ground, a lump of useless jelly, his head clearly... well, “dented” would be the best way to describe it!

Dodging back a step, Spike avoided the punches aimed at him by the two vamps that had charged him next, both clearly believing that strength in numbers was the way to win. This theory was dispelled for them as Spike leapt over them both, duster billowing as he twisted in the air to come down behind them, facing their backs, but in the process reaching out to hook both of them in reverse headlocks. His feet touched down, a vamp head under each arm, their bodies arching the wrong way for their spines to bend. Leaning back sharply at the same time as dropping into a low crouch, a definite crack could be heard and two more vamps fell paralysed, easy pickings for later. He regarded them dispassionately for a fraction of a second, taking in the male and female that had made the mistake of crossing him. 'You two should have found something else to do as a couple!' He thought sardonically before re-focusing on the task at hand.

Turning again in his direction of travel, Spike's demon was screaming at him to finish this now, and to find Joyce. Wrestling to keep control of said demon, he took the next three in turn, never breaking stride, each step a kill, each kill, a step. A ripped throat greeted the first on-rusher, Spike's hand closing around the shorter vamp's trachea, pulling it free, along with most of his carotid artery and jugular vein. The haemorrhaging vamp staggered a step, his blood colouring the 'Jaws' t-shirt he was wearing, and dropped face-first onto the concrete beneath their feet, the remains of his borrowed and stolen blood pooling under him. The next had time enough to look at Spike with confusion in her brown eyes before vanishing in a puff of dust. Spike, having taken a page from Glory's play-book, had punched clean through the vamp's ribcage, clamped strong, bloody fingers around the un-beating lump of muscle within, and removed her heart. The final one of the trio caught a spinning reverse heel kick to the chin. The kick normally delivered a bone breaking impact, but Spike had added a small jumping spin prior to launching the blow, and the added momentum was enough to rip the vamp's head clean from her shoulders.

The final two, one hulking brown-haired male and the other, a simpering, scrawny and gaunt female, now stood face to face with the furious, rampaging master vampire. Having seen their back-up disintegrate under Spike's assault, the pair decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and chose to retreat at a hasty pace. Releasing Joyce, who had been held between them as they witnessed the massacre unfold, they ran with all the vampiric speed they could call on. Sadly, they only managed about ten feet before Spike had jumped on the pair of them from behind, forcing the female's head into the concrete hard enough for it to not be a head anymore! The last was cowering in fear as Spike picked him up by the throat, and, despite the size difference, held him aloft with little effort, squeezing tightly on the thing beneath his fingers. If the situation wasn't so dire and charged with danger and emotion, it would no doubt be rather comical in its appearance. Here was Spike, holding a vamp that was somewhere between the Terminator and the Incredible Hulk in size aloft, with no apparent exertion on his part.

Trying his best to rein in his demon now that the battle was over, Spike spoke slowly, deliberately, his accent becoming slightly more refined as he enunciated every word. In the quiet of the aftermath, his words were loud enough for everyone else present to hear, even though that was not his intention.

“You put the word out in this town, these people are under MY protection, understand? You touch any of them, there will be consequences. Now, get out of my sight, before I decide to spread the message myself and dust you.”

Releasing the terrified, out-house sized vampire to run away, Spike took a deep breath, reached into his duster pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Pulling one free and lighting it with the Zippo that he had in his other hand, he took a deep drag and exhaled heavily. It was at that point that Spike noticed movements in his peripheral vision. The gang was making their way over to him. Buffy, Dawn and a shaken, but unhurt, Joyce in the lead.

Turning away from them, he shouted as best as he could in his adrenalin-charged state.

“STOP!! DON'T!! JUST STAY BACK!”

Everyone took heed of the warning, except for the members of the Summers family.

Once again, he tried, “What the bleeding hell is wrong with you bloody women? What the hell does it take? Ask one little thing o' you, but do you bloody listen? NO! Stay back! Is that too complicated for you lot? Didn't teach the Queen's bloody English in that school o' yours, Slayer?”


Undaunted, they pressed on, getting nearer and nearer. Close enough now that Spike didn't have to shout to make himself heard.

All the anger dropped from Spike's tone and stance, his shoulders slumping, his voice pleading, “Please? Don't come any closer. It's not... I’m not... safe... at the moment. I don't want you to see me like this... please?”

Buffy held out her hand, stopping the advance of her mother and sister while maintaining her forward motion, not noticing the advance of the rest of the group. A few strides and she was just a step behind Spike.

“Spike?”

“Please, Buffy... don't... don't... I can't...”

“Can't what? What's wrong, Spike?”

Spike turned to face her, his human face streaked with blood that wasn't his, looking like... well, looking like what Giles would say was what a 'stiff upper lip' looked like. A tight, slightly sad expression gracing his features.

“I lost control, Buffy. I couldn't help it. I saw those... things take her, and I couldn't stop. Never... never felt that... like that, before. Rage, I mean, real rage, like that, it was too bloody much, I couldn't hold it. I’m... ... sorry.” He dropped his gaze for a second, before lifting his shimmering blue orbs up to meet her confused eyes once again. “I s'pose you were right all along, eh? I am a monster.”

Once again, his eyes found the floor, and as such, didn't notice the approach of the others. Didn't notice Joyce marching with determination towards him, shoving past Buffy. The movement of shadows was his first clue before coming face to face with a very pissed off Joyce Summers. He had barely shrugged off the feeling of déjà vu before he was reeling from a quite forceful slap to the face!

“MOM!! WHAT THE HELL?!” Buffy was momentarily stunned. She almost couldn't believe what she was seeing.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Joyce was pissed. “I will NOT listen to you speak about yourself like that, William. Do you understand?”

“Joyce, I am a-” Another slap to the face, this one slightly less powerful than the first.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” The fury blazing in Joyce's eyes reminded him so much of Buffy's fire and drive, it really was apparent that they were mother and daughter.

Unable to think of anything to say, and not wanting another slap, Spike wisely nodded his head in acceptance.

“Good, now that that's handled...” Joyce flung her arms around the stunned vampire, hugging him tightly. Buffy stood off to the side, putting an arm across the shoulders of Dawn, who had moved up beside her. They shared a smile, partly because of the shell-shocked expression Spike currently wore, but also in relief that their mother was fine, thanks to Spike.

Pulling back and regarding the clearly confused vampire in front of her, Joyce spoke calmly and clearly, her voice strong and carrying. “You saved me, Spike. You have nothing to apologise for, is that clear?” At his nod, she continued on, with another slap to his face! “That was for being so foolish! What were you thinking, taking on that many vampires on your own?! You could have died, you stupid, stupid boy!” Pulling him into another almost bone-breaking hug, she whispered a 'thank you' in his ear before letting him go.

Taking a step back, Joyce opened up the field for Buffy and Dawn to descend upon him. A light kick to the shin from Dawn and a clip around the back of the head from Buffy shortly followed, once they had gotten within range.

“What she said,” Dawn elaborated, “you could have gotten yourself dusted, you moron! Then where would I have been, huh? Having to watch my best friend dust? So not a nice thing, Spike.”

Holding out his arms, he accepted Dawn into them and rocked her a little from side to side before holding her at arm's length and touching her cheek lightly, offering her a wink and a sly grin.

Turning to Buffy, he prepared himself for her verbal flaying, but was relieved when she cast him a worried, but gentle smile. “Just do me a favour, Spike?” At his answering cocked eyebrow, Buffy went on, “Next time you decide to do something crazy, try and remember that you're thinking for the two of us?”

Releasing Dawn from his grasp, he wiped his face as best he could with the sleeve of his duster, cleaning the blood and ichor off him. Then, with a small smile at Buffy's unintentional pop-culture reference to Dawson's Creek, he moved to cup her face in his hands, and pulled her towards him, whispering to her the words that would finish the quote from the show, before sealing his lips over hers and stroking her cheeks softly.

“I can do that, Buffy. Promise.”

Having heard the majority of the exchanges, Willow, Tara, Anya and Giles, the last of whom had taken care of the clean up by staking the disabled vamps left in Spike's path, wisely decided to keep from commenting on the scene that had unfolded before their eyes. The last thing that they wanted to do was to upset the emotional vampire, or, for that matter, Buffy's mom!

The remainder of the path to the cars was trodden and with no interruptions this time, Giles ushered the witches and Anya into his vehicle while Joyce took her family and surrogate 'son'.

Although few words were exchanged on the drive home, Buffy kept her hand in Spike's in the back seat, Dawn having called 'shotgun', to everyone's eye rolling. While still a little shaken from the fight that she'd witnessed, she had to admit that parts of her were... … well, she didn't know if 'pleased' was the right word. Her inner Slayer was proud of Spike, the warrior in him calling to her on a primal level as an equal, perhaps even her superior. Her inner woman was slightly astonished at the protective streak that Spike clearly had developed for her and her family. It was a comfort to know that he would be there, with her, to protect them, should the situation call for it, as tonight had.

Balancing those two trains of thought in her head, Buffy tried her best to focus on the important factors of tonight. Her mom was safe, and so was Spike, and so were her friends and Dawn. That was what mattered to her at the moment. The rest, she would give some thought and some time.

In what seemed like moments, leaving Giles to park in the road, they were pulling into the driveway of her house and spilling out onto the front lawn. Just as Joyce was reaching the front door, her keys in hand, a voice sounded from behind them. A voice that Buffy had last heard dripping in venom and hatred. A voice proclaiming that 'he' should have been the one to 'fuck her'. A voice that she wasn't sure she ever wanted to hear again. A voice that simultaneously made her blood run cold and her temper ignite.

“There you guys are! I was about to head to the Magic Box. So, what did I miss?”

Chapter Sixteen:

Buffy's blood ran cold at the voice behind her. She closed her eyes, her brain overloading, unable to comprehend what was about to happen. She wasn't ready for this, she needed time, she needed space to process what she'd experienced tonight. And, of course, she wasn't gonna get it. She would have to deal with this, now. She would have to face the man that she thought was her friend, the man who had pretended to be her friend, when all he really wanted was to 'fuck' her, as he'd put it. The years of their supposed friendship all meant nothing to him. He just wanted to have her, to sleep with her. Blowing out a breath, she braced herself for the confrontation, and turned to face Xander, cold steel in her eyes.

Xander stopped his advance upon noticing the expressions of everyone present, although he discounted Spike's look of rage, and the menacing, constant growl as inconsequential. Still, after a couple of beats, he was surprised when no-one stepped in on his behalf to tell the vampire to stop with the aggressive display. Taking it upon himself, he spoke, in the fervent belief that he would have unconditional back up from his friends.

“What are you growling at, chip-boy? A guy can't ask where his friends have been?”

He grinned as Spike's advance was quickly halted by Giles and Joyce, the former placing a restraining hand on the vampire's wrist, while the latter got in front of him, her eyes locked on his. Some words were exchanged, too quietly for Xander to discern, and Spike visibly relaxed, a slight nod of the vampire's head signalling his acquiescence. Spike's reluctant yielding to Joyce was accompanied by a reassuring pat of his other hand, that Joyce had taken hold of.

That single gesture, the ease with which they all interacted with Spike, had Xander instantly fuming inside, resentment and anger burning through him. His grin faltered for a moment, before remembering that there were others present, and quickly as he could, he reinstated it on his features, not wanting to show his reactions to the situation with the peroxide blond.

All this passed without a comment from anybody towards him, so he tried to garner everyone's attention yet again, by repeating his question, only this time, turning to take in Buffy, Willow, Tara and Anya.

“So, guys, what did I miss? No new big bad that needs researching, right?” He approached Anya, moving to take his place next to her, and frowned when she instantly moved away, placing herself firmly with Giles and Joyce, with Spike behind her.

“Anya? Sweetie?”

Movement all around captured his attention, with Dawn moving back, away from him and over to her mother's side, while Giles stepped forward. Tara drew back also, into the rear group that had formed, leaving Xander facing Willow, Buffy and Giles, all of whose expressions were hard, cold.

He couldn't make sense of it all, what was going on? They were reacting to him like he was dangerous or something.

“Guys? What's the what? Giles? Willow?”

Neither of them answered him, they just kept their eyes locked on his, as if daring him to make a move of some description. What kind of move, he had no idea, but the defensive nature of their postures, of the group's delineation, was enough for even him to pick up on.

Turning his innocent expression to Buffy, he spoke with a wounded tone, quiet in the silence around them. “Buffy? What's going on? What's wron-”

Those simple words seemed to make something inside Spike snap. Hearing him speak her name... it was too much for Spike to contain. Keeping in mind his acceptance to stay out of this, as Joyce had requested, he settled for letting out another deep growl, this one louder, and decidedly more aggressive. Added to that, he let his demon come partially forth, his eyes turning to glittering gold in the dark.

Xander's attention came to rest on Spike once more, and again, he noticed that no one around the vampire was recoiling with fear or disgust, as he thought they should. To Xander's vexation they were closing in on the growling monster, Dawn and Joyce in the lead, trying their best to calm the raging master with gentle touches and whispered words.

“OK, for the last time, what is going on here! And what's crawled up his butt? Enough with the growling, bleach-boy. Jeez! Impotent much? We both know there's nothing you can do to me, so unless you want me to stake your ass, just shut it!”

Buffy took a few trembling steps toward the confused brunette, trying to fight through all the emotions raging for dominance inside her. Bitter hurt and red-hot anger were boiling to the top, swirling around in her mind. The hurt part of her wanted nothing more than to run into the house, fling herself onto her bed and cry for a week, but the anger was winning, and it propelled her forward, towards her 'friend'. With only a couple of feet between them she finally spoke. Her words were icy and detached, an extreme change from the usual tone that she normally addressed him with.

“SHUT UP, XANDER!! JUST SHUT UP!!” Taking a calming breath, or trying to at least, she pushed away her hesitation, accepted that this really was gonna happen, she couldn't run away from it. She pressed on, ignoring his hurt expression at her outburst as the rest of her friends and family looked on.

“We saw the tape, OK? We saw … heard … saw and heard what you said, what you did. I … …” Buffy found that, now she'd started, she really didn't have the words to express the betrayal and hurt that the person in front of her had caused. She felt her hands ball into fists as her anger rose up above her hurt. A part of her itched to pummel him, but another part reminded her he was human and she protected humans. Stupid Slayer Calling crap.

“Tape? What tape? Buffy, what-?”

“THE TAPE!! We saw it! What you said, what you did, when nobody was around? We saw it!”

Xander was still none the wiser. He had no idea what any of them were talking about. Beginning to get a little frustrated at the lack of usable information coming his way, he spoke, perhaps a little harsher than was necessary.

“WILL SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT, IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT'S HOLY, IS GOING ON? IN ENGLISH? WITH ACTUAL WORDS THAT MAKE FULL SENTENCES?”

Buffy locked her eyes on his, the coldness boring into him as she took another step forward, distancing herself further from the group behind them and putting herself within arm's reach of the brunette. Willow and Giles moved with her, remaining a few steps behind, but still, distancing themselves from the group containing Dawn, Joyce, Tara, Anya and Spike. Buffy forced her fists to unclench, trying to keep calm despite Xander's outburst. It didn't really work, and before she could even reply to him the anger boiling inside her had her hands balled back into tight instruments of death.

Speaking without the emotions that Xander associated with his and Buffy's long friendship, she went on to elaborate, in full sentences, as requested. “You remember the day that me and Mom and Dawn went to help Spike move out of his crypt?”

Xander nodded, so she continued on in short, clipped sentences, something she hoped he could understand. “Well Dawn just happened to leave her camcorder up there. It was on. It was recording after we left. So we saw you. We saw your little conversation with Spike! Understand now, Xander?”

Xander's brain whirred, thinking back to that day, to the confrontation between him and the vampire. Then it clicked, all the things that he'd said in the heat of the moment, without any thought or filter, just the ugly truth spilling from him.

The change in his expression was obvious enough to everyone that he knew what they meant, that he had realised that he'd been caught. Immediately, his expression changed to one of shamed chagrin, and a pleading, remorseful tone entered his voice, along with a slight, almost teasing, comical quality. Apparently, he was gonna try and laugh this one off.

“Oh come on, guys! That didn't mean anything! I was just running my mouth with ol' Spike there, it was nothing! Just something to get him all riled up. I swear, it was nothing. You can't actually believe I meant any of that! Honestly? How long have you known me? You know how much fun it is to get the impotent one all worked up! I didn't mean any of that! Just like seeing Spike twisting in the wind. Seriously!”

It soon became clear that this wasn't gonna wash with any of the assembled on-lookers, as their expressions remained icy and closed off to him.

Buffy had been losing the battle with her anger since she first heard Xander's voice tonight, but now it seemed to be on the verge of boiling over. HOW DARE he try and laugh this off as nothing! Play this down as if it was completely inconsequential! However much she may have liked Xander, in the past that is, she also knew that he was never prepared to take responsibility for the things that he'd done. Everything was either not his fault, a misunderstanding, or a joke. He had no other setting. She'd done her best over the years to overlook those particular character flaws, with the hope that as he grew, he would overcome them. Obviously not.

Buffy lost the battle with her anger in a bright, hot implosion deep inside her chest. Her heart raced and her stomach twisted as fury raged inside her, taking over every cell, every word, every thought.

“DIDN'T MEAN ANYTHING?!” Buffy's voice exploded from her, anger tingeing her every syllable. “BULLSHIT, XANDER!! YOU KNEW EXACTLY WHAT YOU WERE SAYING, AND YOU MEANT EVERY WORD OF IT!”

“Buff-”

“NO!! I don't want to hear it, Xander! You betrayed me, us, our friendship. It all meant nothing to you! You said it yourself, you just wanted to fuck me, and couldn't handle that I’ve never looked at you that way! And this proves why, Xander. You're weak, manipulative, arrogant and self-righteous. You refuse to take responsibility for your actions and accept the consequences, you'd rather just pass the buck to someone else!

“All those research sessions, when my life could have depended on what we found out, what were you doing? Reading a FUCKING COMIC BOOK!? All these years, you've lied to me, pretended to be my friend, when all you wanted was to sleep with me. No, wait, what was the expression you used? It was so poetic, wasn't it? Oh yeah, that was it, you wanted to get 'balls deep in my pussy'! Lovely words, by the way, such a romantic!”

Running her eyes up and down his body, Buffy's lip curled into a disgusted sneer. “Like I’d EVER let you near my body like that! GOD! Just the thought of it makes me want to puke! You, naked? HA! I think I’d be too busy throwing up or laughing to actually get anywhere near you.”

She watched as the colour drained away from Xander's face, then came back a deep red. She didn't know if it was from embarrassment, rage, shame, or some combination thereof, but she didn't care. She pressed on, taking those reactions of his as a sign that she was at least being understood, so she ran with them, pressing a little harder.

“What's the matter, Xander? Don't like hearing all that? Don't want to hear about what you're missing out on? Or maybe, just maybe, you don't want to hear about what it is that Spike's gonna be having? Something that you've always wanted?... … … … Me. My heart. Me soul. My body.”

Xander was shaking in impotent rage at this point. He accepted the fact that he'd been caught out, and had hoped that he'd be able to laugh it off, as he'd always managed before when he'd screwed up. The well of forgiveness that he drank from, that Willow and Buffy owned, was endless, at least so he thought, but this? Her words? He'd never imagined Buffy could EVER be speaking to him like this.

“Well, Xander? Don't you want to hear about it? Huh? How I’m gonna share Spike's bed for as long as he'll have me? How he's gonna be able to share my body when I think I’m ready? How I’m gonna share his? Huh? How I want to give him every part of me, and take every part of him, 'cos I know he loves me unconditionally, and I want him to show me how to love like that. I mean, you're my friend Xand, wouldn't you want to hear about me being happy with someone? That what friends do, isn't it? They listen to each other's problems, and celebrate their successes and happy occasions, right?”

“B-but … he's a … monster … an evil creature,” Xander stammered out, any drop of good judgement having been driven from his brain with the images her words conjured, which cut him to the quick.

Buffy felt her nails dig into her palms. She could feel her arms tense, ready to strike, to pummel, to destroy, but something inside her was still holding her back. The Slayer didn't attack humans, especially those that weren't a physical threat … she needed to make him a physical threat. She took another step forward, almost touching him, and lowered her voice to the point that only Xander, Giles and Willow could hear her. “C'mon Xander, don't you want to hear about how much me and Spike are gonna be able to share with each other? How good I think it's gonna be when we finally make love?” Another step, this time, her mouth almost next his ear. “How good it's gonna feel to have his cock inside me? In my pussy? Or in my mouth? Or maybe, even, in my ass?”

Buffy froze. Her entire body was ready to strike at the man she thought was her friend. She waited, waited for him to attack, to lunge for her, or Spike, to give her the slightest reason to punish him for what he'd done, for his betrayal of her trust.

But he didn't. He didn't take her dangling bait. He simply gasped. It was all he could manage as the images she painted rambled around in his brain, turning and twisting his stomach.

At his indrawn breath, Buffy backed up to her previous position in front of Giles and Willow, completely frustrated with the brunette's lack of backbone. “Must kill you to know that I’ll be giving Spike something that you've always wanted, and will NEVER get?”

Xander opened his mouth a few times, but nothing would come. His brain was … well, it was unable to process all that was happening in such a short space of time. The only thing that had sunk in from that whole speech was the fact that Buffy was gonna give Spike her body, every part of her body. Once more, his inner beast was raging at the injustice of the universe. Again, Xander was gonna be denied his ultimate fantasy, and what he thought should be his reward, all because of some evil demon!

Buffy tried taunting him one more time, loud enough for everyone to hear.“C'mon, Xander, say something! You must have something to say after all that? Some miraculous tale to spin where it's all not your fault, that you were just kidding. It was all a game, or better yet, play the old one about being possessed and you don't remember any of it! That would be a good one! We haven't heard that one in years. About time it was used again, right?”

Suddenly, in a split second, all the fight seemed to leave Buffy's body, her anger and rage being replaced with that cold empty feeling of betrayal and deception and hurt. A deep hurt, straight through her heart. She felt her eyes burn with hot tears, and as they fell, she spoke, her voice quavering and full of emotion, “You were my friend Xander. My friend! I would have died for you, just like Willow, and Giles, and Tara, and Anya would have died for you. And look what you've done! Don't you get it? You're not my friend anymore.

“You're nothing to me, except the man that betrayed me worst of all. I thought Angel becoming Angelus was the worst hurt I could feel, but that? At least that wasn't his choice! He couldn't help what happened to him, but you? All those years of lies and deceit? You're worse than Angelus ever was. He was true to his nature, you?... I don't even know what you are.”

Turning her back on the stunned man, she headed towards her mother and Spike, her sister and her friends, without a hint of remorse at anything that she'd said, without any need to look back. As she got closer, Joyce took a step forward, and opened her arms to her daughter, pulling her into a sobbing embrace that Dawn quickly attached herself to. The message, the emotion, was clear to everyone present.

They would get though this, as a family. They would help Buffy, support her, in whatever she needed.

Xander turned to his oldest friend, hoping with all his heart to see some support there, some sympathy, or understanding. All he saw was a distant, closed-off expression, perhaps with a hint of hurt, or maybe anger? He couldn't place it.

“Willow, you believe me, don't you? It was all just a mistake! All I said, it was just to piss Spike off, I didn't mean anything by it! PLEASE! You have to understand, I mean, c'mon, it's me! Xander!”

Trying her best to ignore the stinging behind her eyes, Willow looked at him, really looked at him, and as if for the first time, which was possibly true, she really did see him. And she found herself taking a step back from this man who had once been her friend, repulsed by him, the hurt coming to the forefront of her feelings. It suddenly hit her, like a punch to the solar plexus, who, and what Xander was, what he had done.

For years now, he had manipulated her feelings, playing the ever-faithful friend, the dependable sidekick that she could always count on, or so she thought. But Buffy's words from earlier rang true in her mind's eye. He was weak, and shirked responsibility for his actions, passing off the consequences to others whenever the opportunity presented itself. He had always managed to force his opinion on to her, bullying her with guilt, and the expectation that she should always agree with him because he was her friend. And then, using that forced agreement as his justification, he would push that opinion onto Buffy as well, manipulating her thoughts and feelings, with Willow as his unwilling and unaware accomplice. His back-up. His 'get-out-of-jail-free card'. “Willow agrees with me,” or “Willow thinks so too.” He'd done it since the day that they had become friends.

“Willow?”

His pleading voice cut through her thoughts, bringing her crashing back to the present. Things were different now. Her blinders had been removed, and she could never put them back on again. Hearing the tone of his voice as he asked her for understanding and forgiveness, she could now see his methods for what they were. The manipulation for what it was. He played the wounded puppy well, using guilt as his net with which to catch and hold her.

No more. She couldn't do it anymore, now that she could see, she didn't want to be blind again. Turning her head to take in Tara, Buffy, Dawn, Joyce and Anya, she knew where her place was. Where she was meant to be.

Glancing at Giles, she met his eyes, tried for a valiant smile, and reached out and squeezed his forearm, before walking away from Xander without a word. She walked back to her family, and was accepted into it, again, without a word. They were not necessary. Everyone knew exactly what Willow had just done, what she had just given up, and how hard that was for her. Tara immediately pulled Willow into a tight embrace, her face impassive as she dared Xander to make another comment.

Giles stepped forwards slightly, and naturally drew Xander's gaze away from Tara, to rest on the watcher. His voice was as hard as pounded steel, and as cold as absolute zero when he spoke, his restraint being tested to its absolute British limits.

“Be very clear about this, young man. You will stay away from Buffy, her family, and her friends, or so help me, I shall see to it that your life becomes, shall we say, difficult? Do you understand me?”

Xander couldn't take in what was happening here. Before his very eyes, he was being stripped of his Scooby status, his place in the group that he called his friends and family. It was all collapsing around him, and he felt powerless to prevent it. “Giles, please, you have to understand, I didn't m-”

“Do you understand me?” Giles repeated, waited a beat, and upon seeing that a response was not forthcoming, he decided to punctuate his statement. “Do not doubt me, Xander. I have resources that I can call upon to make what I ask a reality, but it would be better, for you, to do as I have instructed. Now, have I made myself clear?”

All Xander could do was nod dumbly, the weight of everything pressing down on him, the realisation coming that he was soon to be left with nothing but the green-eyed monster raging inside him, the jealous beast that had caused this set of events. One by one, they had turned from him, leaving him with his rage, his feelings of injustice at not having Buffy, and the feelings of boiling anger at being caught.

'Fucking Dawn and her camcorder! Stupid little bitch! If she hadn't left it there, no one would have been the wiser, and I’d have been able to work my way back in!'

Momentary visions ran through his mind, flashes of charging the group, staking Spike, tearing Buffy away from the group to be with him, shoving Dawn to the ground. They all passed before his mind's eye as he struggled to fully appreciate what had truly happened. It was all too much for him to process with the spitting and roaring jealousy clawing at the bars of its cage, willing to be let loose and act on the urges that were pressing into his thoughts. At the very least the image of staking Spike seemed like a perfectly rational and acceptable option, given the circumstances. After all, this was all his fault. If he'd not angered Xander in the first place, if he'd not pressed his buttons that day in the crypt, none of this would be happening.

And with that simple thought, that simple statement of so-called fact, the green-eyed monster inside him stopped growling and roaring, but began to purr. It was so simple! It wasn't his fault! Spike did this! If he could just stake Spike, all would be well again, and everything would go back to how it was. Everything would be fine! Xander could continue to bide his time until the day that he could have Buffy. Of course! Why hadn't he seen it until now? This was all Spike's fault! And it could be easily fixed with a stake through the heart, just as the filthy demon deserved.

Snapped out of his epiphany by her voice, Xander found himself face to face with his fiancée. Her eyes were swollen and red, an obvious sign that she'd been crying, but her voice held steady as she spoke. Her tone, like those before her, was cold, calm, and determined, with no hint of hesitation, her conviction clear.

“Mrs. Summers has offered me a place to stay for the next few days, while I find somewhere to live, and then... … … then... … … I’ll come and collect my things. I’m done, Alexander. I can't live in Buffy's shadow. I can't live with someone who thinks of me the way you do.

“I tried so hard to be good to you, to be a good girlfriend, to be a good human, but it wasn't enough for you, was it? It was never enough! I couldn't compete with her. I couldn't change what I was, what I’d done. Well now, I… … I... I won't try. I’m through. I never want to see you, or hear from you again, Xander.”

Stopping before she gave him the satisfaction of seeing her tears fall, she yanked her engagement ring off, and threw it at his feet, before turning her back on him, and rejoining the group of friends huddled on the Summers' lawn.

Xander was speechless, his brain was overloading with everything that was happening. Buffy. Willow. Anya. Giles. All... … gone. His place, his life, just... … gone. He'd lost it, thrown it away.

'NO!! I didn't do this! Spike did this to me! Spike took this from me! Spike did this! THIS IS ALL SPIKE'S FAULT!'

Xander's inner monologue was running, spinning, trying to find an angle that he could put on it where it wasn't his fault; his mind found Spike waiting. In that single moment, he latched onto it and wouldn't let it go. This was Spike's fault, somehow.

“Alexander?”

Focusing on the present, brought out of his musings, he found Joyce standing before him, a stern, cold, distant and controlled expression on her face.

“There's not much I can add to what's been said tonight, but I want you to know, if I ever see you near my daughters, I promise you, you WILL regret it. Am I making myself clear?”

A slow nod was her only response, but that was enough for her to turn her back on the young man, hopefully for the last time, and head back to her family. A family that she realised now included the vampire that loved her like a mother, loved her youngest like a sister, and loved her eldest like... … like she deserved to be loved.

Xander could only watch from his spot on the lawn as everyone in his life that he cared for walked away from him without a single glance back at him. The shame of what he'd done was desperately trying to find a place in his mind, to make him realise what he'd done, but it was eclipsed and pushed aside by the rage in him at the injustice of what Spike had done to him. This was all Spike's fault, and on top of that, not only had he taken everything from him, he was gonna have Buffy. She'd said it herself, Spike was gonna be able to share her body, like he'd dreamed of since the day he first met Buffy. It wasn't fair! Buffy should be with him!

It happened so fast, that to someone observing it would seem to be miraculous, but in a few short seconds, Xander had dismissed everything that had been said to him tonight. His focus was on the unfairness of what had happened to him, and the fact that Spike was gonna be with Buffy.

With the jealous monster roaring for vengeance and satisfaction, he stalked away.

'Spike is gonna pay for this.'

Chapter notes: Hi, guys, and girls. Well, I'm back! I know it's been a while, but my life has been anything but calm as of late, and I haven't had the spare time that I had when I first started this. Anyway, firstly, the point of this is to say that, no matter what, I'm gonna finish this. This will NOT become a story that is left unfinished. I WILL stick with this until it's done. And I want to take the time to thank everyone who's given me a review or a comment. They all mean a lot, I promise.
Secondly, this chapter is dedicated to PaganBaby, who started me on this path to begin with. Her stories are awesome, and they're what inspired me to have a go myself. If you haven't already, you REALLY need to go and have a read of like, EVERYTHING that she's written! The second dedication goes out to Passion4Spike, for being the best beta I could have asked for! Without her, this story would be an utter grammatical disaster! So giving with her time and her opinions and suggestions. I am truly blessed to have them both helping and supporting me.
Right, well, that's the important stuff out the way, the only other thing to say is that, of course I don't own anything, and the characters are definitely not mine. And for the record, the sword techniques described herein are indeed inspired by interpretations of the seven forms of Lightsabre combat by people more skilled and knowledgeable than I in that particular area of martial arts. No copyright infringement is intended and this is done purely for entertainment.


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:

Buffy walked into the Magic Box with Dawn and Joyce in tow, apparently catching Giles and Spike in the middle of a rather heated debriefing session about last night's patrol. The five days since the... 'unpleasantness' had been relatively calm, or, at least as calm as could be expected. The emotional toll had been heavy on everyone, including Spike, but that was mainly because of the girls, and their reactions to Xander's words and actions.

Still, the world hadn't stopped. The Earth had kept spinning and life still needed living.

The arrangements for Spike's new home had been all but finalised, and he had taken possession of his place, fully furnished. A few personal items still needed to be purchased, but for all intents and purposes, it was fully equipped for both his and Buffy's needs, the latter being the most important in Spike's estimation. All that was necessary now was for Buffy to pack up whatever it was that she wanted to leave at Spike's place, for those occasions that she would be staying the night, and move it over there.

“Yes, I'm bloody well sure. There were no Kyokani anywhere to be seen. Did a sweep of five cemeteries, didn't I? Came up with nothing except a few fledges, one vamp that had a little more in him, and a Storivan demon. Oh, and I'm fine, by the way, thanks for askin'!” Spike added the final sentence with a scoff.

Giles proceeded as if he hadn't heard the last part, in fact, he seemed to proceed as if he hadn't heard Spike at all. “Really, Spike, we need to be quite certain. The time for their ritual of immolation is approaching quickly, less than a week in fact, so we must be sure that none of them intend to use the hell-mouth to intensify the effects of said ritual. Now, are you certain that you didn't see-”

“For the last bloody time, Giles, there were no fu-”

“AHEM!”

The sudden intervention, as it were, from Buffy caused Spike to pause mid-tirade, and glance in the direction of the noise. Upon seeing her and Joyce sporting amused, if tight, expressions, and Dawn smiling broadly, he adjusted his language, but his defiant and blunt attitude remained the same as ever, even with the presence of his surrogate family. Releasing a sigh born from long-suffering, he began again, every word tight, clipped, and controlled. ''Once again, Watcher, there were NO Kyokani.”

It was obvious that Giles was about to press his luck by interrupting again, and as a result, Spike's control finally went the way of the Dodo.

“FOR FUCK'S SAKE, GILES! Kyokani are twelve feet tall and weigh fifty fucking stone! I think if I saw one, I would have noticed!”

The shop was silent for a beat or two, but then Spike pressed on, his frustration boiling over. “Y'know what? I'm done! You can forget the debriefing sessions, I've had enough. I'll do my patrols, and still patrol with Buffy when she wants or lets me, but you and me? We're finished! I don't need this, you gormless tit! Need I remind you that I know more about the demons in Sunnydale than you do?! That I know more about demon species in general than you do?! I do this as a courtesy, cos you're the Slayer's so-called Watcher and I figured that ya needed t' know, but seeing as you're a thick, arrogant wanker, either unwilling or unable to take my word for what goes on, I'm done! Got it?”

With a swirl of black leather, his coat fanning out in a flat wave as he spun away from the agog Watcher, he walked with swiftness to the Summers family. Before she could bat his hand away, he gave Dawn a good hair-ruffling and gave Joyce an apologetic smile and a peck on the cheek as well as a quick, quiet apology for his language. He then gently grasped Buffy by the face, cupping her cheeks softly in his hands and looking into her eyes for a moment, before pulling her into a bone melting kiss of passion, power, lust and love.

Things started forcefully, lips and tongues battling for dominance, before becoming a little more delicate. Once it was clear that the two of them would be engaged for some time, Joyce muttered an amused, “Hi, Spike” as she shooed Dawn further into the shop, towards a visibly blustering Giles who was in the process of cleaning his glasses rather thoroughly. Joyce pulled up a chair and took a seat to wait for her daughter to once again rejoin the world, such as it was.

“Really! Well, I don't think there was cause for that outburst. Joyce, I ask, was that strictly necessary?”

“I think you can count yourself lucky that you managed to get away with just an outburst. Another sign of Spike's self-control when confronted with a difficult or frustrating situation, I think,” Joyce replied, somewhat amused.

Yet more blustering from the Watcher was cut short by a glare from Mrs. Summers. “And need I remind you that I don't have a chip?”

A deep growl rippled through the room, causing some of the smaller objects on the shelves to rattle and shiver slightly. Spike had heard the exchange between Joyce and Giles, and was clearly not amused. He paused in his endeavours to give Buffy an orgasm from just kissing her, and pulled back, taking in the scene unfolding in the shop before him. “And need I remind you of what happened to the last person that... upset Joyce? I'm fairly certain you were there. It didn't end well for him, or any of them for that matter, if you recall, so I would be very careful in your choice of words and tone, Watcher. Chip be dammed!”

Buffy really wanted to intervene at this point on behalf of her mother, but she was having a serious problem. The deep, full throated growl that had swept through the shop had also swept through her body, vibrating her insides and, it seemed, turned her channel into a slippery cavern that was pumping out her essence at a phenomenal rate. She was slick with need and her panties were wet, squishy, and warm between her legs. Her clit was throbbing in a staccato rhythm that matched her thudding heartbeat and her walls were clenching and unclenching, searching for something to grip, to squeeze, to mould themselves around. Never-mind Spike trying to make her cum from just kissing her, it seemed that he could do it just by growling! Her Slayer was at once purring with contentment at her current position in Spike's arms, and howling in frustrated need that she didn't have Spike's cock inside her, filling her body.

Since the news that Spike's home was now a reality, Buffy's libido had been eagerly pressing at her to move in straight away and make a start with the bedroom Olympics! And her Slayer side had been no help whatsoever. Ever since her little revelation to Xander about what her and Spike might be getting up to, it seemed her imagination, or rather that of the Slayer's, had latched onto the idea that Buffy had put forward in the single hope of provoking Xander into a physical reaction. Her newest fantasies still involved Buffy on her hands and knees, with Spike behind her, but now, Spike was sliding smoothly and deeply into her ass! She'd never even thought about anal sex before, it was just something that had never entered her mind, but now, the thought of it was so... … adult... so... ... taboo, that she couldn't shake it, much to her Slayer's delight. And, it seemed, that even Buffy herself was warming to the idea, as it were. The thoughts she'd indulged in earlier in the week, about having Spike cum inside her were still present, only now she wanted Spike to unload his cream in her ass, filling the deepest part of her body. The thoughts of sharing something so intimate with someone were truly amazing to her. Not to mention hot! Her pussy gave another, particularly strong clench at this thought, and it was all she could do to stifle the moan that the thoughts and images were causing.

Some small part of Buffy's brain sensed the need to break things up immediately, if only to preserve her dignity in front of her mother! Taking action, she pulled back, slightly away from Spike, and dragged him towards the training room while trying to regain her composure and catch her breath.

“C'mon, Spike, let's go train. Maybe... I don't know... maybe you could show me some of those sword moves you were using a little while ago?”

Spike caught the pleading look in Buffy's eyes. She was obviously anxious to put an end to this situation before it escalated into something more between him, her Watcher, and everyone else in the room.

“Uh... yeah, sure, pet. Sounds brilliant. C'mon, Nibblet, you can watch, and offer some bad advice.”

Dawn rose, giving Spike a playful hip bump when she drew level with him and proceeded to follow them into the other room, leaving Joyce and Giles alone.

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Giles was just about to start his posturing again when the bell over the door tinkled, this time signalling the arrival of Willow and Tara, both of whom were smiling, and giggling conspiratorially, at least they were until they took in the faces of the other two occupants of the shop.

“Hi, Giles, Joyce. Uhh... everything OK?” Willow asked, somewhat timidly, unsurprising given the look on the Watchers face.

Stepping in before he could answer, Joyce quickly addressed the young couple. “Everything's fine, Willow, Tara. How are you both?”

“We're fine Mrs. ... Mrs. Summers, thank you for asking.”

“Tara, how many times? Please, call me Joyce, won't you? 'Mrs. Summers' makes me feel old.” There was no venom in her tone, and she added in a small smile to try and encourage the shy young lady in front of her.

Tara smiled back and then dipped her head and nodded shyly, her eyes on the floor, her long hair falling over her face. “I'll try and remember, Mrs. Summ- uh, Joyce.”

“That's better. Now, what are you ladies doing here on such a fine day? Surely you should be out having fun rather than cooped up inside?”

Willow spoke as the couple moved further into the shop, taking seats at the research table which, for once, was devoid of books open on various pages. The days since Glory's defeat had been quiet, at least by Sunnydale's standards. Yes, there were still vamps that needed dusting, and the odd demon here and there that needed slaying, but, it seemed as though Spike's threat to the single survivor of the failed attack on Joyce had done its job. Most of the trouble-makers in town had decided to keep a low profile, at least for the time being.

“Actually, we're here to see Buffy. We were wondering if she wanted a day out in the park, or maybe the coffee shop? We're kinda at a loose end just now. Our lives of excitement seem to have hit a dry spell and, well, kinda bored,” Willow admitted.

A snort came from the direction of the watcher. ''Bloody typical. If the world isn't ending, the children get restless. Honestly, what has happened to attention spans over the last twenty years? It seems as though nobody has the capability to entertain themselves any more. It's all instant gratification these days. Honestly, what has the world... come... ... to? Yes? Why are you all looking at me like that?''

“Giles, how about engaging some of that British reserve and keeping your opinions to yourself? There's nothing wrong with the girls wanting to have a nice day out. After all, what's the point in fighting to protect the world if they don't get to enjoy it once in a while? Hmmm?”

Yet more huffing followed, particularly something about 'children needing to read a good book nowadays', as Giles made his way behind the counter and opened a large ledger and began perusing the sales figures for the month so far. With Anya's absence, having given her some time off to get herself settled in the small apartment that she had managed to find, the burdens of the everyday running of the shop fell on him. 'Best to make a start on things, I suppose, and leave the ladies to their chatting.'

Conversation flowed easily between the group for a good fifteen or twenty minutes, Joyce having explained that Buffy, Spike and Dawn were currently in the training room, until, with a sudden and unexpected fury, a black shape came flying through said room's door, turning the once solid obstacle into kindling on its way.

Joyce let out a surprised gasp, but it was eclipsed by the shriek of Dawn, who, as yet unseen, was obviously still on the opposite side of the wall.

“SPIKE!!”

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Spike followed Buffy into the training room, and then walked past her to the weapon's rack, picking up a wooden Bokken for him, and a dull training Katana for her. Whirling them in a flourish of wrist spins, both in front of, and behind him, to check the weight and grip of the weapons, he noticed Dawn's curious, if tight, expression at Spike's choice.

“S'OK, Nibblet, just a precaution is all. Buffy'll have to cut m' head off t' kill me with this, and I won't hurt her with the wooden one. It's just in case we have a cock-up, and seeing as I'm gonna be teaching Buffy something new, best to be careful, yeah? Now, you move over there, and stay back, got it?” Spike gestured to the side of the room, so Dawn would be well out of the way of the soon-to-be whirling weapons.

Throwing Buffy the Katana, Spike stood in the middle of the room, facing her, his Bokken held downwards in his hand, the 'blade' tip resting on the floor in front of his feet.

“You ready, then, kitten?”

Buffy smiled, and spun the sword, as Spike had done, a few times, clearly ready, at least in her mind.

Without warning, Spike's 'sword' came up in a powerful strike, catching hers at the vertical portion of her sweep. The strong horizontal slash, aimed at the very tip of her blade, ripped it from her grasp and sent it flying away, only to impale itself in the training dummy along the far wall. The grip swaying slightly as it protruded out of the dummy's head.

“What the hell?” Buffy was shocked, to say the least. She hadn't seen it coming at all. One second the sword was in her hand, the next, the dummy had a piercing in a place that really wouldn't catch on!

“First lesson, pet. Form one, or Shii-Cho, good for disarming opponents.” Spike couldn't help but look a little pleased with himself. Buffy was clearly surprised, and though she wouldn't admit it, maybe, just a little impressed.

Retrieving her weapon, she proceeded to launch her attack at Spike, who easily deflected her blows, while speaking calmly.

“See, form one is the very basics. No fancy moves, just practicality in its application. And, in a pinch, it can be thought of as a fall back option when the other forms don't seem to cut it. Rather than ponce about with fancy twirls and stuff, just cut to the heart of it all, y'know? Strike and parry, attack and defend. Identify your target points, and, if you want to end it that way, disarm your opponent. That's the thinking behind it, apparently. At least according to Nick.”

From the way that he was talking, it was clear that while Dawn could hear him, the words were most definitely intended for Buffy's ears. He kept it up even as Buffy increased the ferocity of her assault, trying to outmanoeuvre him, and when that didn't work, she tried brute strength. At the same time, however, she was trying to understand what Spike was describing, and it was working. She could see what he meant by the move-set being basic, but functional. He had a simple counter to every one of her moves. A horizontal block to a vertical attack and a vertical block to a horizontal one.

As she continued to press, Spike started to falter, and finally, as he was pressed back, he disengaged, and slid back a couple of steps. Raising his free hand, he signalled for a pause.

“Now we come to its limitations, pet. It's very good against multiple opponents, 'cos it's got wide, broad sweeps, so it gives you a lot of room to work in, but it's not all that great at one-on-one combat. Kinda lacks precision when you're fighting someone who knows what they're doing. If you get good at it though, you can counter that weakness, given enough skill. You wanna go again, and I'll show you?”

Buffy nodded. She was intrigued, and she had to admit, enjoying herself. It was fun to talk shop with Spike, especially when he apparently had so much to teach her. Maybe, with enough practice, she could get to be as good as he was, and that would only ever be a good thing when it came to the pair of them patrolling.

He took a step forwards, and was back in range, so they resumed the fight, their weapons flashing around them, and this time, Buffy felt herself on the back foot.

While Spike was right about the moves being simple, they were most certainly effective, and he hadn't been lying about the skill countering the form's weakness. His moves were unpredictable and flowing, able to chain strikes and parries together to keep up a barrage of moves. Again and again, he pressed, an attack at her side would then lead to a strike at her lower body, which in turn would be redirected to one at her head, and then back to her side. It was hard for her to keep up, her weapon vibrating in her hand with every impact, until finally, after a minute or two of back and forth, the sound of wood against metal ringing thorough the room, Buffy made a mistake.

She aimed a vertical blow at Spike's head, akin to a Kendo overhand chop, the aim to split him in two, but Spike sidestepped, allowed her strike to descend, and then brought his blade down onto the back of hers as it reached the bottom of her swing. The impact, with its placement at the tip of her blade, allowed the grip to act as a fulcrum, and the leverage it exerted once again ripped the weapon from her grasp, which went spinning straight up. Spike's hand shot forwards and plucked it cleanly out of the air by the hilt, and done! The fight was over. Spike held both weapons, while Buffy stood there,breathing heavily and slightly agog at the skilful manoeuvre.

Swaggering towards her slowly, just a couple of steps, he leaned in, kissed her lightly on the lips, and then pulled back. “I win.” He threw in a cheeky wink and a smirk, which was met with a definite girl-y giggle from Buffy.

'Oh my god, I just giggled! Me! The Slayer! Just giggled at getting beat by a vamp!' Buffy shook herself out of her thoughts and regarded the smiling blond in front of her. Once again, it hit home to her just how much Spike had played during their previous bouts and encounters. And she was surprised to find herself feeling... proud. This gorgeous creature, this man, this warrior, was hers for the taking. All that strength and skill and knowledge and power, her equal in every way, well, except knowledge, 'cos Spike sure had her beat there(!), was hers to have.

Spike had started speaking, so she focused her attention on him once again.

“Right then, pet, you ready for form two?”

With that, he handed the sword back to her, hilt first, and took a step back, all the while keeping his eyes locked on her.

“Now, form two, or Makashi, was supposed to be created to counter the weaknesses of form one, so it's very good at single combat. Very precise in its blade-work, and very good at protecting ones weapon against disarming strikes. It focuses on parries and ripostes, manipulating your opponent into a position that is advantageous to you. Its only real weakness is it's very vulnerable to forms with a lot of kinetic energy, which we'll get to later. It's also not so good against multiple opponents, but with a good degree of skill, this can be compensated for. So, you up for it? Fancy a go?”

Spike raised his weapon in front of his face, the 'blade' angled upwards and the spun it through a flourish that ended with the weapon being held low on his left side, the blade pointed down at forty five degrees out to his left.

Buffy smiled at his seemingly calm, almost playful demeanour, and then, without warning, charged at him, reaching him in a single stride and began her assault. Much to her chagrin, however, Spike met her blow for blow. His blade spun in a blur, connecting with and re-directing hers, all the while lashing out at her with light cuts and short, sharp jabs and stabbing motions.
Again and again, she would attack, and again and again Spike would defend, giving ground when it was necessary, and taking it back when he could.

As inexperienced as she was, she was able to sort of understand what he meant about the form and what he was doing with it. It was clearly geared towards precision, as not a single move was wasted, either on an attack, a light slash or stab, or a deliberate strike to her side, be it left or right, to force her to change her direction of travel to being straight in front of Spike. She was being hemmed in, forced to focus all her efforts on a frontal assault, trying to match him in blade-work, where Makashi excelled. The focus on in-line travel, footwork, and the fluidity of its moves allowed Spike, once again, to control the fight and dictate its direction and ferocity.

It also seemed to not be lacking in defence either, as Spike was able to masterfully absorb and re-direct all of her strikes with clear ease. When possible, a straight block was favoured, but as the form was unable to absorb a lot of kinetic energy, Spike was also focusing a lot of his movement on meeting Buffy's strikes as quickly as he could, taking them high in the arc of her swing, and using the whole length of his blade to shift their direction of travel around and away from him. This allowed him to stay relatively aggressive and fluid, while simply re-directing Buffy's energy into deflected strikes that posed no danger.

Once again, the battle went back and forth, Spike dragging the contest out, trying to show Buffy by action what the form was all about. After a few minutes, Spike decided that enough was enough, and brought things to a conclusion. Rotating his body ninety degrees to the right, presenting his left side, Buffy took the bait that Spike had offered, and aimed a slash at his back. Reversing his grip, bringing the blade running up his arm instead of straight out from his hand, he brought it back, behind himself, and intercepted her strike with his upturned blade, then, rotating his body quickly back to his original, forward-facing stance, he added an upward strike, still in a reverse grip, that caught Buffy's bade as it bounced off his behind-the-back block. The impact sent her blade upwards, opening her body and leaving her vulnerable. With a simple spin and a horizontal slash, he aimed for her neck in what would have been a clean decapitation, but stopped his blade a few millimetres from its target. This session was over, Spike once again victorious.

“Right then, that's form two. I reckon it's one of the better forms to master, and, when paired with the next one, makes you pretty damn good in a fight.”

Raising his weapon, this time holding it out at waist height, the 'blade' angled towards her slightly, Spike took an easy, balanced stance and waited. The message was clear: “Attack me.”

Buffy didn't disappoint, once again unleashing a barrage of strikes upon Spike and his weapon.

This time, Spike gave ground, allowing Buffy to press him back. As she unleashed a ferocious barrage of strikes upon him, Spike began talking, once again in that calm and controlled tone that revealed the fact that, when it came to defending himself from Buffy's onslaught, he really wasn't being pushed all that hard.

“Now then, pet, here we have form three, or Soresu. 'Ave to say, in my opinion, one of the best to learn and become practised in, as it'll allow you to learn more simply by the virtue of keepin' you breathing! It's purely defensive, nothing flash or brash about it, just plain and simple defence.”

Much like Makashi previously, there were no big, bold strikes, just tight, energy efficient moves, Spike's weapon staying close in to his body, keeping it under control at all times. This, paired with some subtle body shifts and Spike's amazing reflexes, allowed him to take everything that Buffy threw at him seemingly untroubled. Lots of little dodges and positional transitions allowed him to evade the strikes that he didn't intercept with his blade, and, like Makashi again, those that he did intercept were taken high in the arc of Buffy's swing and re-directed around his body. Finally, with a very definite step, Spike stopped his backwards movement, and simply stood his ground, allowing Buffy's attacks to break upon him like water on rock. That was the value of Soresu, as Spike pointed out.

“'Ere's the thing, Buffy, with Soresu, ya got a few things to consider when learning it. It's said that, if mastered and understood, a practitioner is invincible and can dictate any engagement, allowing the fight to play out to his or her plan, but it's not without its vulnerabilities eh?

“Doesn't have anything going for it when you want to go on the offence, so you have to pair it with somethin' that does. I reckon Makashi is my first choice, but there are others, which we'll get to, eventually. It's perfect for the long haul, as it's so energy efficient, which makes it easier to control the engagement and end it as you will, be it a kill or a disarmament.

“Could also think of it in a pinch as being your first response to a surprise, which gives you time to think, or as a last resort to simply survive. Personally? I would take what I like from Soresu and Makashi, and possibly some stuff from Djem-So, which we haven't gotten to yet, and come up with a blend, or hybridisation, of the three to suit what I need. Still, it can't be underestimated how useful Soresu is, especially if, for example, you're not really trying to kill your opponent, just stop or subdue them, y'know?”

All the while that Spike had been speaking, the fight had continued, parry after parry, strike after strike, dodge after dodge. This is the strength of Soresu. Total defence. Nothing wasted, just calculated strength and speed, always just enough for what is needed. Spike was well and truly in control of the sparring session, that much was obvious. Every now and again, he would suddenly lash out with an instant and accurate counter attack to one of her strikes, the movement fluid and woven into the defensive web that he was creating around himself. It certainly was a little out of place, so much so that even Buffy was able to notice. Notice, but not anticipate, so she had to do her best to react as well as she could. Seeing her struggle on several occasions to match him, he gave her a short explanation.

“That's the Djem-So influence, those counters? That's one of its signatures. Fast and fluid offence mixed with a solid defence, but we'll get to that another time. For now... I think... we'll... call... this... done!”

Just as the word 'done' left his mouth, Spike stepped in under Buffy's guard, their bodies almost touching, as he took her blade straight onto his. Using her momentum, he redirected the blade over his head, while bringing his 'blade' down along the length of hers, at the same time as adding a spin to his movement. The result being that Spike, his back now to her front, had his 'blade' and body in-between Buffy and her weapon, his 'blade' pressing on the back of hers near the hilt. A quick shove with his free hand to the bottom of his grip for a little extra leverage and Buffy's Katana went spinning away, leaving her, once again, defenceless.

Turning to face her, his grin ever present, he called out without changing his eye-line, “Nibblet, close your eyes, OK?”.

Not waiting for a reply, Spike sealed his lips over Buffy's and proceeded to kiss her soundly, but gently, exploring the cavern of her mouth with his tongue, when it wasn't battling hers for dominance in a mini version of the duels that had just taken place.

Buffy closed her eyes and abandoned herself to the kiss, not worrying about anything else, letting the world fall away until it was just the pair of them in this room. Nothing else existed, just their little world that they both lived in for those moments.

It should have been no surprise that, in the next moment Spike was, well, taken by surprise! (pun intended!) One moment he's kissing the lady he loves with all his un-beating heart, and the next he's sliding along the floor of the Magic Box, having 'opened' the door from the training room by reducing it to matchsticks!

He heard Dawn's cry as he came to a stop, and saw for the first time his attacker, who was stalking through the now open doorway and out into the shop.

“Oh, bloody hell! Really? Now?”

Spike regained his feet just as the hulking, Neanderthal-like form of Angel became visible to everyone. There was instant commotion, voices all shouting and calling, footsteps of both Dawn and Buffy, who had taken a second to process what had just happened, chasing to catch up.

She, like Spike, was completely taken by surprise when, out of nowhere, she was kissing thin air. Opening her eyes, she had just caught Spike's form disappearing through the door-frame followed by a mass of black moving after it.

The Slayer made it into the shop a second behind the figure and was just about to make a move and stop the intruder when her vamp-tinglies allowed her to identify said intruder. Stifling a groan of frustration, or annoyance, or maybe even anger cost her another second or two, which allowed a couple of actions to unfold which froze everyone in place.

The first being that Joyce had stood and taken a step towards Spike, a stake appearing in her hand as if by either magic or telekinesis. The second, however, was even more shocking.

Tara was on her feet the moment that Spike had broken through the door and was almost to his side by the time that he stopped sliding along the floor. As such, her position was not too dissimilar to that of Spike's, and so she was able to identify the attacker more quickly than everyone else in the room.

Making a move to put herself between Angel and Spike, she spoke a single phrase, in what sounded to Spike like Latin, and all of a sudden her hands, clenched in fists down at her sides were enveloped in flames: bright, golden flames that started at her fingers and worked their way up to just past her wrists.

Add to that the sound of her voice, cold and authoritative, and she was quite the sight to behold. Seemingly enough for Angel to suddenly realise the threat that she now posed, and certainly one that made Spike's heart grow a little for the timid girl who now stood in front of him, trying to protect him.

The room froze. Silence reigned for a beat or two, and then it was broken.

“Take one more step, Angel, and I will kill you.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

The room froze, completely focused on Tara and her stance in front of Spike, standing as a guardian between him and Angel. Tara stared at the marauding, dark vampire, almost daring him to make some kind of aggressive move. She was fully prepared to do whatever it took to protect Spike, the flames dancing around her wrist were proof of that.

Angel, for his part, was only now becoming fully cognizant of his precarious position. Here he was, well and firmly ensconced in what appeared to be hostile territory, and his one ally, the one person he thought would be his back-up was, so far, unaccounted for. Buffy hadn't made a single move, spoken a single word in his defence, and he was starting to wonder just what the hell was going on here.
Sure, he rationalised, Spike may have Buffy under his thrall, that was, after all, what had brought Angel to Sunnydale this time, but he was maybe, just slightly, surprised that his power over Spike as his grand-sire seemingly wasn't enough to shake the hold that Spike apparently had over the Slayer. Add to that his belief that he and Buffy shared such a bond, such a connection, that his mere presence should also have broken her free of whatever game it was that Spike was playing, and he found himself starting to have a really bad feeling about all this. Not to mention the fact that everyone in the room, including Joyce and Tara, were apparently perfectly willing to end him over the bleached punk was more than a little disconcerting. Just what the hell was going on here?!!

“Might I suggest, Angel, that it would be conducive to your longevity to not make any sudden moves? Slowly back away from Spike and Tara, and, if you would be so kind, explain yourself, beginning with your presence here, and concluding with your rationalisation for your unprovoked actions we just witnessed.” Giles spoke calmly, but his eyes and his hands never wavered, maintaining his aim with the crossbow that had been picked up at the first sign of conflict. Said crossbow being cocked and firmly aimed at Angel's heart.

Realisation crashed upon Angel, and so the vampire complied with the order, retreating to position himself with his back to the now non-existent training room door. He faced the room at large, pointedly trying to ignore the array of wooden weapons now being brandished by every occupant.

Buffy finally emerged into his eye-line, coming from behind him to place herself in-between her friends and the so-called 'good vampire.' When she spoke, Angel noted the lack of warmth or affection in her tone, so unlike anything that he was used to when it came to the Slayer.

“That was British for 'start talking'... … …” Silence reigned between them as Buffy tapped her foot and narrowed her eyes dangerously, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. “Still waiting, Angel? And keep in mind, there had better be a damn good explanation for what you just did to Spike.”

Angel adjusted his stance to one of regal nobility, learned by watching others throughout his years, including the early years of Spike's un-life. It could still rankle the elder vampire that William had been of better class and status than Angel when the blubbering blond was turned by Drusilla. Better educated, better spoken, more knowledgeable about the world, despite Angel's surplus century of existence. And the ease with which William had been able to meld and blend into the upper class events that Angelus liked to attend in order to find himself some 'worthy' prey had earned the younger vampire many a beating. No matter how hard he had tried, Angel had always been discovered as someone who did not belong.
And here he was, a century later, once again finding himself on the outside of things, while William had been accepted, protected even.
Forcing the frustration from his mind as best he could, he found his voice, this time addressing Buffy directly and ignoring all the pointy wooden objects and the other occupants of the room who wielded them

“Uh, Buffy? Can we... maybe... … talk, privately?”

“PRIVATELY?! After what you just did? You come busting in here, no reason, no explanations, no nothing, you attack Spike, and you want to talk to me, privately? No, Angel! You can explain yourself right now, and you do it here, in front of everyone. And you'd better hope that it's a damn good explanation, otherwise I am so gonna kick your ass!”

And there it was again. Angel could barely believe what Buffy was saying to him. However, what it did do was simply reinforce his original assumption, one that he'd come to moments after his unexpected phone call from Xander earlier that day: Buffy was under Spike's thrall.
His demon was growling in rage that the young upstart would dare to try and take what Angel viewed as his, and Angel was placing all his demon's anger on Spike as well. The possibility that maybe Buffy had moved on with her life and maybe Angel had been replaced in Buffy's affections never crossed his mind.

Taking a breath, and keeping his distance, Angel began what he thought was gonna be a well argued and balanced answer. Unfortunately, his first sentence sealed his fate.

“Look, I only came because I care about you, Buffy, and Xander said-”

Buffy's hand went up instantly, stopping Angel in his tracks. “If you're here because of what he said, then you and I really have nothing to discuss, Angel. I don't want to know what he said, but I can promise you, it's not something that you want to be a part of, and also probably something from the un-trusty side of the tracks. I have little doubt that he's spun this to make himself seem like the good guy, and that Spike's the bad guy in this. I swear to you, that's not the case, and if that's all you have, you might as well leave now, Angel. I don't want to hear it. I've made a choice, one that I feel is a good one, but also, it's one that is mine, and mine alone. I want to be with Spike, and not you or Xander, or anyone else has a say in that. Discussion over. Done. The end.

“So, like I said, if that's why you're here, you might as well leave... … but... … before you go, I want you to apologise to Spike for what you did to him just now.”

“So that's it? Discussion over? No talking about this like adults? Just a childish tantrum and a refusal to discuss things?”

“Tantrum!! ME?! After what you just did? Physically attacking Spike with no justification whatsoever, except for what you heard from Xander?!” Buffy flung her arms out, encompassing the splintered door and Spike in one motion as she glowered harshly at Angel, and tried to keep her temper from boiling beyond her control.

Angel was taken aback by her vehemence, and couldn't help but think that things were not going well for him, and certainly not as he had thought that they would progress. He opened his mouth to begin again, however Buffy wasn't finished.

“And why should there be any discussion at all? What business is it of yours who I decide to be with, who I want to date, who I choose to sleep with? You left me, remember? Who I choose to be with is none of your business Angel, and the sooner you get over this little delusion of yours about you having some kind of right to interfere in my love-life, the better, cos gotta say, this whole 'jealous ex' thing? So not a good thing.”

“I'm not jealous, Buffy, I just don't want you to make a mistake that you'll end up regretting. Whether you choose to believe it or not, I love you, and I only have what's best for you in mind, and that's not Spike. I can promise you that. You don't know him like I do.”

Buffy let out an exasperated breath and rolled her eyes. “That's not your decision to make, Angel. I choose what's best for me, not you, and certainly not what you think is best for me. And just so we're finally clear, let me explain something to you: it took me a long time, and a lot of thinking, but I finally see Spike for who he is. You may have known him longer but that's all the past. I know who he is now, what he can be, and who he wants to be, for me. I'm gonna give him a chance to be that man, and there's nothing you can do or say that will change my mind.

“He fought for me, for my mom and Dawn. He helped me patrol, and he protected Dawn, put his life on the line, when faced with a hell god, someone whose power we've never encountered before. He did all this thinking he would never have a chance in hell of being with me, and yet he still did it. He stayed, helped, when it hurt him to be here, to see me with Riley. He stayed. That's more than you ever did. You left at the first sign of trouble, and let's not forget, that was after you killed a friend of mine, and turned into the true monster that you are.

“You want to know the real difference between you and Spike? He can control his demon, while you let yours rule you. His demon loves me just as much as Spike himself loves me, cos they're part of each other. That whole crap about you and Angelus being two separate people? So not buying it, not after spending time with Spike and seeing who he really is.”

Buffy took a breath, trying to calm herself, and delivered what she hoped would bring this whole mess to an end, something final, something definitive.

“The thing that you haven't actually understood in this scenario, Angel, is this... while you may still love me, or at least as much as you're able to, or think you can – and I won't deny that as a teenager, I would have thought it was really sweet – I've grown up since you left. I'm not the Buffy you knew, or thought you knew. She's gone. She's moved on to better things.”

She looked at him, hard and unflinching, meeting his mournful, puppy-dog eyes, which, she was proud to say, she found irritating and sad rather than mysterious and intriguing, and readied the hammer blow.

“Understand this Angel, cos I don't want to have this conversation with you ever again. I. Don't. Love. You. Anymore. It's that simple. We're over. Done. Finished. You had your chance and you blew it by walking out on me 'for my own good'.”

The last few words accompanied by some clearly sarcastic air quotes. Deciding that she needed to voice the final thought that she had locked in the back of her mind, after all, now seemed to be the time, she continued with one final statement.

“And if I'm being totally honest, which seems to be the thing to do right now, I'm not sure I ever really loved you. Not really. After feeling what I feel for Spike, I really don't know anymore. What I feel for him is so much more intense, passionate, profound than what I ever really felt for you. And it just seems to be getting... … more every day.

“I suppose we have to face it, Angel. You were a teenage crush that got out of hand, and we both let our better judgement disappear, let ourselves get carried away, and we crashed and burned, like we would have done anyway. Maybe, if I'd, or maybe if you'd, exercised some restraint, some good judgement, we never would have slept together, and things would be very different for all of us. I mean, I know it was my fault too, but as the adult, you don't think it was a little weird, you being sexually attracted to a school-girl? 'Cos, gotta say, looking back? SO not of the good!”

Angel stood, still as a statue, his face a study in disbelieving pain and misery, but she could also see the beginning of anger forming there, and knowing Angel, it was an anger that he couldn't control.

She instantly became even more alert, her Slayer instincts coming to the fore, ready, should battle need to be joined.

Movement and sound seemed to come back to her as she realised that everyone had silently been observing the tragic scene before them. Giles was doing his absolute best to look anywhere but the pair of them, all the while still trying to cover Angel with the crossbow. Needless to say, he wasn't doing too well. Turning to take in the room at large, she noticed that, while everyone seemed to still be armed, they were all trying, much the same as Giles, to not intrude on the particular situation unfolding in front of them.

Spike began moving, coming forwards, and attracting Tara's attention so as to not startle her. Spike took the white witches hands into his own, and held on as Tara extinguished the flames that had been burning there.

“Sorry, pet, but I can't let you do that. I really can't let you take on that particular burden, 'specially not for me. You have to remember, Glinda, you're the gentle one. Destroying things isn't your way, and I'll be buggered if I'm gonna let you start now, y'hear? If the big git needs dusting, I'll do it. He's my responsibility more than anybody else's here, with the exception of the Slayer, and I don't want to have to put her through that again.”

“Nothing to go through, Spike.” Buffy said quietly, while taking in his soft gaze, first at Tara, then at the sound of her voice, he turned his blue eyes onto her and she was momentarily lost in the sapphire depths.

A deep growl reverberated round the room, Angel vibrating with pent up rage, as he took in the blond duo looking at each other. Buffy had never looked at him like that. With love, passion, desire, lust, trust and understanding all mixed into one expression. It hit him then and there. Buffy loved Spike, and she loved the blonde more than she'd ever loved him.

This was unacceptable. Simply unacceptable.

His fangs descended, the growl turned into a roar, and Angel leapt towards Spike in a fit of rage the likes of which he hadn't experienced since the days of Angelus.

Spike's roar of challenge rang through the shop, once again causing everyone in the vicinity to cover their ears, just like the night of the attack on Joyce. Angel seemed to falter momentarily. He'd clearly expected Spike to fall into a defensive, maybe even submissive pose, and was surprised to see him displaying aggression of this level.

“YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE WHAT'S MINE, BOY?! I'LL KILL YOU, YOU PRESUMPTIVE LITTLE SH-”

Spike watched as his grand-sire stopped suddenly, the dark vampire's a face a study in astonishment. Angel turned back to face Buffy, who had been behind him after his leap towards Spike, and in so doing, displayed the blunt end of a stake protruding from his back. Only the last two inches of said stake, it should be mentioned. The rest was firmly embedded in Angel's chest cavity.

“Buffy?” His voice held pain, accusation, confusion, amazement.

Buffy's however was cold, distant, and determined. She also added a small shrug of unconcern as she spoke. “I warned you, Angel. You tried to attack Spike, you pay the price.”

Aforementioned price being that, with a small puff, the monster known as Angelus, the pretender known as Angel, the leader of The Scourge Of Europe turned into a small pile of ash and dust on the Magic Box floor.

Spike looked at her with wild eyes. He couldn't believe it. Buffy had just dusted Angel. She dusted Angel. The Slayer had bloody-well dusted Angel.

“Bloody hell, pet, what'd ya do that for?! I was looking forward to kicking his ass all over the soddin' shop.”

“Well, if that's the case, I have to thank you, Buffy” Anya piped up, looking supremely unconcerned, almost bored, by the events that had transpired a moment ago. “Who knows how much damage they might have caused, and how much it might have cost to get it all repaired. It's really very disturbing how no one ever takes that into consideration.”

Buffy still kept her eyes on Spike, stepping over what remained of Angel, as she closed the distance between them. Linking her arms around his neck, she pulled him down and kissed him softly. Taking the moment in, she relaxed against him for a few seconds and then drew back, taking in his smiling, if still slightly surprised face.

Once again, a small shrug was all she offered by way of body language, but she spoke clearly enough to be understood by everyone present, “He threatened you. Simple choice.”

Kissing her forehead, Spike then pulled back and chuckled lightly. “Bloody hell, Buffy. It wasn't like he was gonna kill me or anything, he just thought he would 'ave a go is all. We haven't 'ad a proper ruck in an age, not really. I would've wiped the floor with him. The really was no need to-”

“No, Spike, you don't understand.... He threatened you. I don't care who would have won, or who's the better fighter, or any of that. He threatened you. NOBODY threatens you in front of me. EVER.”

“I'll be sure to try and remember that, and remind him if and when he comes back, but for now, can I ask you to try and rein it in a little bit.” The voice was strange; melodic, and yet, old, with a depth to it that almost rattled the air around them.

Clearly startled, everyone turned towards the sound of the voice, towards the front door of the shop, only to be confronted with a dark robe clad figure, hood raised and head bowed.

Spike growled, immediately moving to place himself between everyone in the room and the unannounced visitor. The growl continued, a low rumble, even as the stranger raised his head and regarded the vampire with glowing, white eyes.

“I know what you're thinking, William, and I would advise against it. Please, I have no quarrel with you, or anyone here, for that matter. I mean you no harm. That, I promise.”

Anya, who had maintained the air of boredom and disinterestedness at events that unfolded in front of her suddenly spoke up, a note of concern in her voice.

“Spike! Don't! That's... that's... Michael.”

“I know who he bloody well is, thanks, and I'm kinda curious. Never thought I'd ever meet one in person. Wonder what he's got. What do you think, mate, fancy a go?” Spike was smiling, all hint of aggression in his voice gone, but his stance was coiled and ready, energy harnessed for a sudden explosion of power if it was needed.

Taking a few slow steps forwards, Michael regarded Spike with amusement, but suddenly paused in his movements, his eyes glowing more brightly for a few seconds. Almost as suddenly as it had started, his eyes resumed their dull white-ish glow and he smiled more widely, a chuckle rippling through the silence. “It seems that we have some interested parties that we must disappoint, William. My apologies, but for now, I have another purpose here. Maybe, just maybe, another time? It would certainly be... interesting, and from what I know of you, a challenge, to be sure. It's been so long since I had a worthy opponent. Hmm, something for me to think on, I submit.”

Buffy chose that moment to speak up, thoroughly confused about who this person was and what was being discussed.

“OK, so, you, hood guy, wanna fill me in on what the hell is going on here, and who you are, maybe starting with what you're doing here?”

“Ah, but where are my manners? My sincere apologies, Miss Summers. Allow me to introduce myself, for my name is Michael and I am a servant of the Powers That Be.

At Anya's and Spike's raised eyebrows, he added, “Well, perhaps more than a servant, I suppose some would say. I suppose some would say that I am their word, others would say that I am their earthly embodiment, and still others would call me the Warrior of Heaven. I have to confess, as titles go, I'm most fond of the later. Myself, and another like me, are known across the world, and history, under many names. Some call us Angels, others, Archangels. Others call us Reapers or Wraiths, Spirits, Guardians and Gods. I humbly submit that none of these monikers are true, and I am simply Michael, a being who walks between this world and else, and is simply different to what you may have encountered on this Earth.

“And as for the disappointment I mentioned... it seems there is rather a lot of interest in myself and Spike having a... how shall we say... contest? Some seem to think that the outcome is rather... disputed? It would seem you have quite the reputation as a warrior, William. Even a couple of the Powers themselves were preparing to make wagers! Still, as I say, maybe another time?” Michael lowered his voice into a clearly staged whisper, still allowing everyone in the room to hear him, “A possibility we could make quite the profit, you and I.”

Spike barked out a laugh and relaxed his fighting stance. He would keep an eye on the guy, but for now, he was content that newcomer was not an immediate threat to anyone in the room.

“Now, onto the business at hand, if you will. I am here regarding the unexpected end of the one called Angelus, and sometimes falsely known as Angel. While the powers are not exactly pleased with this latest development, they do offer a proposal to try and remedy the situation.”

Buffy chose that moment to speak, her confusion clearly detectable in her tone as she asked her question. “OK, so, I may be buy-a-vowel girl here, but what do you mean by 'falsely known as Angel'? I don't get it.”

Michael smiled, a clear, easy, happy smile, obviously not adverse to answering her question, or being interrupted. “Well, what I mean is that Angel, the persona that he puts forth to the world for him to be known as is, quite simply, a lie. The soul that turns Angelus into Angel is an outside addition if you will, not something of his own. It is imposed upon him by the curse from those years ago as punishment for the deeds he committed. It is artificial and, might I add, unwanted as far as Angelus is concerned. Over the years, the control that it is able to exert over Angelus has diminished, allowing more and more of his true demonic nature to be revealed. Simply put, the persona that you perceive as Angel is an act put on by the curse to make him seem more civilised and appealing to human society. You saw yourself what happens when the curse was broken and the soul removed. Angelus's true face comes to the fore as he has little control over his demon at the best of times, being as weak-willed as he is.”

Michael availed himself of the nearest chair, having proceeded further into the shop as he spoke, and sat down at the research table, completely at ease and relaxed in his surroundings.

“Interestingly, this is where William and Liam differentiate themselves so sharply. While Liam cannot control his demon due to the weakness inherent in him from his human existence, William is more than capable of controlling, and even ignoring or over-ruling his own demonic, shall we say... impulses?” Michael finished that particular sentence with a slight grin and some mirth in his tone. However, he wasn't finished, as so continued on. “While Angel takes pride in bragging about being a unique being, the vampire with a soul, it is William that is the truly unique one. A vampire with humanity, maybe even with a glimmer of his own soul remaining, and with a heart strong enough to love, despite some rather... substantial obstacles placed in his path by others.” These words were accompanied by a rather stern glare directed towards Giles, who quickly dropped his eyes to the floor.

“Now, as I said, I am here because of Angel's rather unexpected demise, but-” Michael paused, seemingly sensing Spike's sudden and acute discomfort, or maybe anger was a better description.

“Is there a problem, William?”

Spike, who had moved with Michael back into the store growled deeply, keeping the volume low, but the rumbling sound passed through the room rather clearly. “YOU don't know me well enough to be calling me William, mate, so if I were you, I'd stop, yeah?”

The room suddenly became rather cold and still, but Michael simply inclined his head in a small nod. “Of course. I meant no offence. I do apologise, Spike.”

Giles, who until now had been keeping quiet and taking it all in, chose now to give voice to his questions. “Michael, is it? I must ask, do you mean to say that Spike is in possession of a soul? How is that possible?”

“Simply put, we do not know. We are unsure if he does have a part of his soul or not. What we do know is that, as far as we, being the Powers, can tell, Spike has an unprecedented and, previously unrecorded, capacity to love. The subject of this love, who he has chosen to bestow it upon, sits before me, in the guise of Miss Buffy Summers, the Slayer. I really should not say this, but one of the Powers, her main focus being the concerns of the heart, is really rather jealous of you, Buffy.” He added with a slight grin.

Buffy blushed, her face heating to the point that people could have warmed their hands from it on a cold morning, if such a morning were to ever occur in Sunnydale, that is. She then swelled with pride at the fact that she had something that a god, for want of a better word, desired. And then, just as the pride settled itself firmly in her mind, the insecurity born from years of disappointment reared its head and began whispering to her. This Power, this god, this being, could come and take Spike from her, and she feared there was little she could do to prevent that from occurring.

Spike, however was not impressed in the least. “You tell this bird, whoever, or whatever she is, that I'm not interested. I'm a one woman bloke, and I'm Buffy's, so she can sod off. GOT IT?”
The last word being bellowed at the ceiling and the sky beyond.

“Please,” Michael went on, raising a hand to calm Spike, “do not misunderstand me. She has no interest in intervening, or trying to take you away from Buffy. She merely stated that she was envious of the depth and scale of the love that you have for the Slayer, especially given the romantic hardships that have befallen you in your time of existence. It would be very easy, Spike, for someone to become indifferent, at best, and perhaps numb, at worst, to love, having experienced what you have. The fact that you have not is a testament to the strength of your heart, of that love, and to you, as a person. I should have also said that she is very proud of you, and sincerely wishes you and Buffy a happy life together. She deems that you deserve it.”

Buffy, whose heart had swelled a little more at Spike's vehement defence of their relationship in the face of a possible 'divine' intervention, came and sat herself on Spike's lap, his arms immediately coming around her middle to hold her tightly. Everyone else had drifted closer to the table as the conversation progressed, and were now seated, taking in the unfolding moment between the two blondes with smiles adorning their features.

“Now, to take us back to the matter at hand: My unexpected visit. I mentioned that the Powers had a proposal to try and rectify the unfortunate situation you have found yourselves in regarding Angel. This is where I come in.” Taking in the faces crowded around the table, Michael continued, “What we propose is rather simple, even if it may not be easy, if you will pardon the vagaries of language. Simply put, we wish to impress upon Angel that he has no place here in Sunnydale, that Buffy has moved on with her life and that he needs to let go of his belief that Buffy will be his again. Angel believes, rather firmly, that once he has done enough on his path of redemption, he will be rewarded by the Powers. This delusion extends to one of two possibilities he has in his mind. Either he will have his soul anchored, therefore being unable to lose it again, or that he will be made human, and you, Buffy, will welcome him back with open arms.”

A low growl rumbled through the room, but Michael decided to ignore this, and once again, continued on.“What Angel is unaware of, or perhaps, more accurately, is unwilling to entertain, is that even with his soul, Angel is still possessed of great darkness within him, due to the constant conflict between his soul and his demon. It must be understood that Angel, as a whole, as an entity, has no desire for altruistic intentions. He is simply on the path laid before him with the hope, and perhaps, the expectation, that he will be rewarded.

“It has to be said that Angel and Angelus are more alike than he would care to admit, with both of them being capable of great anger and spite, with a definite capacity for cruelty, and it should also be stated, and not forgotten, a certain fondness for more... un-savory actions when it comes to young girls. While the soul tries to temper these aspects of his personality, there is a constant struggle being waged. Unfortunately, the willingness of the Powers to give him a chance at being a force for good in the world has also given him an inflated sense of self-importance and worth. He believes he is the Powers' one and only chosen champion, rather than one of many in their service.


“What we propose is to bring him back, once again, and I shall do my best to rectify some of these issues, and make what needs to be said abundantly clear. If I am unsuccessful, which I admit is a distinct possibility, he shall be taken before the Powers, judged, and suitable chastisements will be placed upon him, which could include his permanent demise.”

Silence greeted the conclusion of his speech, and the Archangel once again took in the faces around him. All of them seemed to be closed down, unreadable. Not the reaction he'd been expecting.

“So, what say you? If you agree we shall proceed, and make attempts to... debunk Angel of some of his assumptions and delusions. If not, then I shall take my leave of you, and Angel shall be brought straight before the Powers for judgement.

More silence, for many a long moment, before it was finally broken by the voice of the person thought least to be willing to offer Angel any help whatsoever.

“I say do it, bring 'is poncey ass back, and try and set 'im straight. However much I hate the twat, and believe me I do, if he finally gets over this god delusion he has, as well as giving up on Buffy, maybe he could, for the first time, do some real good in the world, and let's face it, more help is never a bad thing, right? What? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

Joyce and Buffy, while maybe not the only people to have really grasped the enormity of that statement by Spike, were clearly the ones who were showing their emotions on the matter. Both of them had sad, but truly deep smiles on their faces, smiles which lit their eyes with deep affection, and, in Buffy's case, a love deep enough for Spike to drown in. At least that's what first came to his mind when he looked into the jade pools that beheld his own cerulean depths.

Buffy brushed a hand down his cheek and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “You just reminded me why it is that I love you, is all.”

Spike frowned slightly. “Oh?”

“Your heart.”

Spike looked down, clearly abashed, and mumbled quietly, though not quietly enough for his words to go unheard by the room's other occupants, “Not sure it still works all that well, Buffy, but for what it's worth, it's yours to have.” He reached forwards with his left hand, releasing his hold on her middle, and took her right hand, holding it softly, entwining their fingers.

Once again, Buffy leaned forwards, kissed him, and then, pulling back, used her free left hand to give him a light clip round the back of his head.

“Oi!”

“Fell asleep during Michael's speech, huh?” At his curious expression, she pressed onwards, “Heart strong enough to still love despite the pain you've suffered? A truly unique capacity among vampires for the depth of love? A love true and deep enough to inspire jealousy in a god? Stop me when any of that sounds familiar, doofus!”

Turning to regard Michael once more, Buffy chewed her lip and thought about what needed to be done. Trying her best to look at things objectively, to take emotion out of the process, she came to the conclusion fairly quickly. Buffy spoke deliberately and firmly. “Do it. Bring him here. Maybe, just maybe, with you here, he'll listen and understand that I don't love him anymore, and never will again.”

If nothing else, Buffy had to agree with Spike. The more help they had against the forces arrayed opposite them, the better. How much help would Angel have been against Glory, for example? Maybe even one day, he could save Spike's life. That thought, that scenario, was enough for Buffy.

Michael nodded and cast his eyes upwards. Upon the ceiling, above the clear area of the shop floor, a spinning mass of colour appeared, tinted with blue, purple and green, all mottled together and spinning rapidly. At its centre, a small black area appeared, and bright blue and white bolts of lightning appeared at the same time, flashing from the coloured perimeter towards the black centre.

A gate had been opened. Something was coming. Something large, judging from the roar that ripped through the swirling winds of the portal.

A horse, blindingly white in colour, almost opalescent, landed, having leapt from the portal at great speed, though no impact damage to the floor was visible, even with the resounding crash that accompanied its landing. Atop the great steed was a figure, clearly a man. Strapped to the rider's back was a white and gold quiver full of arrows, and in his hand he held a great bow, easily six feet long. Spike recognised it instantly as what he would refer to as a longbow.

The horse had barely come to a stop when another leapt through the portal, this one, also carrying a large figure of a man, was a deep red, almost the colour of blood. A large, two-handed sword adorned this rider, though he showed no struggle at all holding the weapon with a single hand.

Spike, having a theory on who the first rider was, had it confirmed by the appearance of the second, and had just managed to shove Buffy from his lap, and push everyone back, behind him, by the time the third interloper arrived.

This one, whose horse was a black the likes of which they had never seen before landed with an almighty crash, again doing no damage to the Magic Box floor, despite its impact velocity. The black of this horse was... … black. Pure, deep, empty black, as though it was trying to suck all existing light into it and leave the world dark. The rider, for his part, carried a rather odd object in addition to the massive double-headed axe strapped to his back. Said object being a simple set of scales, consisting of two flat plates, suspended on chains from a balancing point.

“Spike? What's going on? Who are these guys?” Buffy tried to make herself heard over the rushing wind of the portal and the cracks of the lightning bolts.

“Not good pet, not good at all. Stay behind me OK?”

“Uh... NO! I'm the Slayer, remember?” Buffy made to push past Spike, but he spun around, grabbed her shoulders and held tight.

“For God's sake just do as I ask for once, Slayer? I know what's coming and you don't so just do as I say, got it? It won't help for both of us to die in the opening volley if this goes wrong, now STAY!”

He roared the last word so loud it covered the entrance of the final rider. This one was different from the others, as he seemed to be without form yet solid enough to make out his shape, being dressed in a black, flowing, hooded cape or cloak, and obviously solid enough to be carrying a weapon. Said weapon being an ancient black scythe with a silver blade, the edge of which was glowing, alternating between red and white-hot. His horse was also different than the others, as it was a thin, almost skeletal, light off-white colour, but with glowing red eyes.

Just as suddenly as the horses had appeared, the portal vanished, leaving silence in the room, aside from some gentle whinnying from the horses and some claps as they stamped their hooves nervously.

Spike took a step forwards, having decided that if they were here to kill them, they would have done so by now, and also assuming that if they were all supposed to be dead, Michael could have done it himself, without all this added help, especially given who it was that he'd summoned.

Turing to said other-being, Spike spoke, almost with some amusement in his tone, trying his best to banish, or at least hide, some of the apprehension he was feeling, given the fact that Joyce and Dawn and Buffy were present . “So, where's the rest then? Still waiting on that army? Prior engagement, is it? We gonna have to wait long? Got places t' be, ya know, important stuff t' be doing.”

Michael laughed, and was just about to answer when Buffy spoke up from her position in front of everyone else, who had been backed up against the nearest bookshelf and the wall, effectively being pressed into a corner.

“Army? What army? Who are these guys, Spike?”

Spike simply looked back at Buffy, making sure he had her attention and pointed out the last rider to have appeared.
“And I looked, and I beheld a pale horse, and the name who sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.”

Buffy's eyes bugged, and she took in a great gasping breath. Not deterred, Spike carried on, almost in a light, conversational tone, “Slayer, meet the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Horsemen, meet the Slayer.”

Turning back to Michael, Spike asked the question that had been burning in him since the first horse appeared in the shop. “So, Mike, what you got Poncy, Poofy, Pricky and Pissy 'ere for?”

Dead silence.

Complete. Utter. Silence.
Even the horses had stilled, all turning their heads to regard the vampire. “Spike!” Buffy's hissed word was ignored as Michael also looked at Spike, only his expression was stern and cold. Then, without warning, he laughed. Really, really laughed.

The horses were whinnying again, almost in an impression or imitation of Michael. The riders shifted in their seats, and though their faces seemed to blur and shift constantly, there were rumbles, like distant thunder, emanating from them.

Michael cleared his throat and answered Spike's question, once he'd managed to control his laughter. “I do apologise for the dramatics, but it was necessary. You see, Angel is being summoned from somewhere beyond this world, from where you would refer to as Hell. It is a void that is not crossed easily, and many would try and join him, try to gain access to this world. These four gentlemen are here as guardians against any enterprising interlopers who would try to gain access to this world when Angel is returned.” Turning to the group huddled in the corner, he beckoned them forwards with a hand gesture. “I promise, here and now, as the Powers are my witnesses, they mean you no harm whatsoever.”

They all took Michael on his word, and slowly edged their way back into the middle of the shop. All except for Dawn, who immediately made a beeline for the nearest horse, and without asking or even speaking, walked straight up to the pale, off-white horse that 'Death' was seated upon, and started stroking its flank!

“DAWN! Get away from there this instant!” came Joyce's cry above all the other shouting, and Dawn, appropriately chastised, took a few steps back towards her mother, only to be stopped by the soft sounds of hooves. Turning to look over her shoulder, she saw that the horse was following her, and as it drew back within range, it gently bumped her shoulder with its nose, and then lowered its head to her hand that was now hanging at her side. After a few nudges and snuffles, Dawn complied with stroking the horse on its nose, only to have it lean into her touch. Dawn laughed, as did the others, at the horse's clear desire for some affection, but this laughter burst into hysterics as Dawn suddenly found herself surrounded by the other three horses, who clearly wanted some attention as well!

“Uh, guys? A little help?”

Since the riders were making no effort to stop their horses, and also making no attempts to communicate, Joyce looked to Michael in question. He simply nodded and smiled, gesturing with his hand, making a sweeping motion from where Joyce stood to where the horses were, and off they went. Joyce, Tara, Willow, Buffy, Anya and Dawn were soon fawning over the horses, stroking and petting them, letting out little giggles when the horses tried to sniff around around their necks and faces, and when one, the blood red one, licked Buffy's ear and tried to start eating her hair!

Worse than this, however, was the fact that now the horses had had some attention, they seemed rather reluctant to let it go, as any attempt to stop was met with yet more snuffling and light nudges and bumps by noses against shoulders or unoccupied hands.

All the while, Giles, Spike and Michael simply watched, the former even managing a slight smile as he took in the events unfolding in front of him.

“Doesn't tell you that in the Bible, does it? The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, complete with a bloody petting zoo!” Spike grumbled good naturedly as he observed the blood red horse licking at Buffy's ear and still trying to chew on her blonde hair.

Just as the hoopla had started to die down, enough for Anya's comment about “horses crapping on the floor” to be heard, another deep rumble sounded, this one seemingly emanating from the sky above the shop.

“Ah, our guest appears to be on his way.” Michael spoke with obvious interest as the Horsemen shepherded their charges back towards the clear area of the shop, arranging themselves at the four points of a compass with a space left in its centre. Directly above this clearing, another portal appeared, this one a mix of purple and red, with the same black spot as its focal point. Yet more lightning flickered and flashed, bright red and gold, and this time striking the floor as well. Unnoticed and unseen on the floor, Angel's dust disappeared without a sound or trace of movement. Faster and faster the colours spun, and larger and larger the black hole grew until, finally, the lightning ceased and a figure fell to the floor with a distinct heavy thud.

Angelus, the demon with the angelic face, had returned.