Oh, god, she'd better be here. Was it any wonder she was freaked? She'd run all over the fucking place trying to find Dawn -- first, the library, where the little twerp had said she would be; second, Janice's, in case her sister was trying to pull another trick like she had last Halloween; third, and this was a long shot, Xander's. In fact, she'd been so desperate by the time she'd hit Xander's place, that when she'd knocked down his door, she'd woken him up from his late afternoon nap and sent him tumbling to the ground right off of the couch.

No Dawn.

So she'd run to the only other place she could think of. The one place that Buffy had avoided as much as possible when she hadn't been checking up on Clem. And upon entering Spike's crypt, she'd screamed loud and clear, "DAWN!" in hopes that the lying little brat would be there.

Sure enough, after a few minutes, Dawn climbed up the ladder tentatively, giving Buffy her most apologetic look. Buffy ignored it and instead pulled the girl to her, hugging her as hard as she could. "Why are you here, Dawn? Why did you do that to me? You scared the hell out of me!"

Dawn pulled back slightly and sighed, looking down. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I... I shouldn't have lied to you, and I'm sorry. But..." she looked around the upper level, pausing on Spike's old chair and TV set. Glancing back at Buffy, she shrugged. "I miss him."

Buffy's face softened, and she sighed, touching Dawn's face and gently weaving the teen's shoulder-length hair through her fingers. "I know, Dawn. I know you do. And I'm sorry, but I really don't think he's coming back. Believe me, if I could, I would find him and drag him back here, just for you." She frowned. "I'd have to find out where to look, first." Her face softened again. "But I would try. Just so you could see him again, just so you wouldn't have to miss him so much."

Dawn took a deep breath, then exhaled again, staring at her sister. "I'm not gonna give up on him. He'll come back, I know he will. He loves us too much to just stay away."

Buffy's shoulders tensed, and she closed her eyes for a second. Various scenes flashed behind her eyelids, of the many times that Spike had declared his feelings for her. Downstairs in this very crypt; inside the dilapidated old building, before she'd thrown herself at him and fucked him into oblivion in order to hide from her feelings and herself; searching for Dawn after Willow had gone on a magic rampage and had stolen a car, nearly getting the teen killed; countless times after they'd had sex (or in his eyes, made love); numerous times in her dreams after he'd left town, making special appearances in her mind and declaring his eternal love for her.

And there was no doubt in Buffy's mind that Spike had let the teenager know how much he cared about her as well.

She sighed, and resigned herself to nodding. Once Dawn fixated herself on something, it was just a tad bit hard trying to get her to let go of it. If she said Spike was coming back, then maybe, just maybe... he would.

And then she would kick his ass for leaving in the first place.

Buffy sighed again. "Maybe he will, maybe he won't. Don't get your hopes up, Dawn." The Slayer glanced around the crypt cautiously. "So, where's Clem? He's not here?"

Dawn shrugged, relieved at the change in subject. She had been this close to blabbing all about the blond vampire hiding in the tunnels under the crypt. "I don't know. Come to think of it, we haven't seen him in a while. Where do you think he is?"

Buffy frowned. "I have no idea. He could have just taken off. And he doesn't seem as fond of us since we blacked out the TV last month, so I wouldn't be too surprised if he left without telling."

The teenager pouted. "Awww, that's too bad. I liked him."

Buffy smiled slightly. "You know, he insulted me when we first met? At least, I'm pretty sure it was an insult. I was drunk at the time, and I don't even remember feeling my feet."

Dawn gave the older Summers an odd look, trying as hard as she could not to laugh. "You were drunk? I thought you learned your lesson about that after the whole CaveBuffy thing at the college?"

The Slayer glared at her. "I was moody, shut up. Anyway, I think it was after I went to see Angel last year. I came home, I was kind of depressed and all, and I ended up drinking with Spike --" she cut herself off, freezing. Then she let out a deep breath and nodded, relaxing. It was okay to say his name. And it was okay to remember him. For a soulless vampire that she had pushed to the edge, he'd done a lot of memorable things for her, and it was okay to remember that. She pointed to a corner in the crypt. "Right there, as a matter of fact. And he took me to get some information at a bar where they were playing kitten poker."

Dawn's eyebrows went up. "They were playing poker for cute little kitties?"

Buffy laughed. "Yeah, it was the funniest sight. After the whole thing, I even started the Kitten Liberation Movement, and set the kitties free. Poor things, I don't think half of them got away. But anyway, Spike brought me in and sat me down in the corner with a bottle of... whiskey, I think it was, in my hand. He introduced me around, and Clem just stared at me for a second, before inferring that my skin was so tight, that it was disgusting. Big laugh coming from a demon whose skin is practically falling off, right?"

Dawn giggled. "Right. Clem isn't exactly the best person to talk about that."

The Slayer sighed and looked around again before moving toward the sarcophagus and sliding onto it. Her vision went blank for a moment.
 

"Tell me you love me."

Spike stared at her with barely concealed hope. "I love you. You know I do."

She moved closer, almost imperceptibly. "Tell me you want me."

Spike's feelings for her surfaced instantly. "I always want you. In point of fact --"

She grabbed him and led him to the sarcophagus. "Shut up."

Turning them around, she slid her hands up his arms, gazed up into his sparkling blue eyes, and leaned in as he lifted her up onto the sheet-covered stone. He climbed up after her, holding her close, sensing that something was different, hoping that it was, realizing that she was giving herself to him fully this night.

Her little hands slid down and grasped at his jean clasps, undoing them as Spike's own hands worked on hers. Lifting her up gently, he tugged down her pants and pulled away her panties as their lips hovered around each others. Finally, he sheathed himself inside of her as Buffy pulled him close to her, kissing him, devouring him, overwhelming them both with their emotions -- him, with his love, lust, and desire for her; and her, with her need to be loved, lusted after, to be desired.
 

The flash ended and Buffy came back to herself. Dawn, who'd been trying to climb up next to her, barely noticed Buffy's flushed skin as the Slayer shook her head to rid herself of the images that refused to leave. The teen finally plopped down firmly next to her sister when she got onto the stupid stone block, then looked at Buffy expectantly.

"So?" she asked, pretty blue eyes bright. Blue eyes that were way too identical to another pair of beautiful blue eyes, ones that expressed anything and everything in a simple blink. "How'd you know where to look?"

Buffy blinked again and shook her head, looking at the younger Summers. "Oh... um, well, I had to go to a bunch of places to find you, and after that, the crypt just seemed the most logical. I mean... I'm pretty sure you spent a lot of your time here with Spike, and vice-versa at the house when I was dead. So... here I am, and here you are." Buffy folded her arms, tilting her head. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Dawn smiled slightly. "Spike left behind a lot of history books when he left. I figured looking through some of them might help me out a little." She frowned then, wrinkling her nose. "That's probably when I found out that the books dealt with history in the views of demons and vampires."

The Slayer began laughing. "Aww, Dawn, you should have realized that from the start. Pretty gruesome stuff, huh?"

Dawn shrugged. "Actually, it's nothing worse than what I've seen you and Spike do with a battle axe, so I was pretty cool. Anyway, the books were one thing, and then it was also... the crypt, you know? It's... homey, in a weird, grungy... dead... type way."

Buffy smiled and wrapped an arm around her sister's shoulders. Her breath excaped her through tightly pursed lips. "I know what you mean. I've been here so often that this place does feel homey." She glanced at Dawn. "I really need a break."

She slid down off of the sarcophagus and headed toward the rypt doors. "Let's go home, 'kay, Dawnie?"

The younger Summers nodded. "Sure, just lemme go get my things from downstairs."

Buffy nodded, watching quietly as the teen slipped down the ladder. A cool rush swept over her, and her Spidey sense began to act up again. Cursing, she looked over her shoulder into the graveyard.

Nothing.

She frowned, then moved toward the center of the crypt. Definitely a presence here, then... an almost sort of comforting one. And it felt like...

Buffy shook her head and shrugged the feeling off. She could have sworn that Spike was there, again. God, she was sick of this... She obviously missed him so much that she was beginning to sense him everywhere. Even here, in this empty crypt, where no one, apparently, had taken residence for over two weeks.

Although it would make sense. Spike had lived here, after all.
 

+++++++++++
 

"She misses you."

Spike grunted, shaking his head. "Yeah, I can see how much she misses me. Bit, just leave off. Big sis doesn't want me around, an' I don't wanna bug her. I've already done enough to her." His gaze lowered and he sighed. "I tried to rape her, then I left her like the rest. It's best that I just stay out of her way, 'cos if she finds out I'm back, she'll be handing me my head before I dust."

Dawn frowned. "Wow. You've really changed."

Spike's head sank lower, and his feet began to kick at the remians of his bed. "Look, Bit, I'll let you call me a poofter if it'll help you make sense of this bloody new soul. But please, just please, let me be. Don't encourage me to talk to your sister, because number one, she's not gonna want to talk. I think she'll be more into chopping off all my limbs. Number two, I've put her through enough. I love her more than anything, an' all I've been able to do to her is hurt her. I don't want that anymore. I just want her to start being happy, an' with me in her face all the time, that's never gonna happen."

Dawn moved forward, towards him, tilting her head down slightly in order to peer into his face. When she reached him, she stopped, then leaned in, giving him the tightest hug she was capable of.

"I think she'd be happy to know that you're back. So she'd throw a fit or two at first, but then, it would hit her... you're back. And then maybe you two could work through your problems, and at least be friends, if nothing more. I know you won't believe me, but when you left, the look on Buffy's face was like she'd just been socked in the stomach. It was kind of like graduation all over again, only this time, it was you, and you didn't even stop to say good-bye to her. And you were the one that was supposed to stay for good. No matter what she did to you."

The vampire sighed. It was sweet of his Bit to try and reason with him. But he'd been on the receiving end of Buffy's fury, more than Dawn had. Spike had been someone that Buffy had hated, and he knew -- more than knew -- that she hated the idea of having feelings for him. He'd be dust the second he tried to look at her.

Looking up, he gave her a pain-filled, pleading gaze. "Nibblet," he whispered. "Go on home, now. Please? Buffy's waiting for you upstairs; prolly thinks you've fallen down a hole or something by now. I appreciate the talk." Dawn started to interrupt and Spike held his hand up. "No, Dawn. Buffy will find out I'm here sooner or later, probably sooner, but she'll be the one to come to me. I'm not gonna bounce into her life again with a soul an' act like I'm the next bloody coming of Christ, or an Angel imitation. She doesn't deserve that. She'll find out on her own, an' I'll just... be here when she does."

The girl's hand moved up to touch Spike's cheek, and the vampire nuzzled into it gratefully, sighing in relief when Dawn nodded in agreement. "Okay, Spike. Buffy can find out on her own. But don't even hesitate to come find me if you need to talk. Okay? Promise me, Spike."

He purred gently, took her hand and kissed the back of it. "I promise you, baby."

Dawn smiled and hugged him again, gently this time. "I love you, Spike," she whispered in his ear.

The blonde vampire's face brightened, and he smiled, hugging her back. "I love you, too, pet." Pulling away, he tugged lightly on a strand of her hair and smiled, then gently swatted her hand. "Go on then, luv. Get your goods, an' catch up to the Slayer."

The teenager smiled one more time and squeezed Spike's hand before shouldering her pack and heading up the ladder.

Spike's smile drooped off of his face the minute she was gone and, letting out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumped, and his head fell.

Buffy was going to find him very, very soon. He knew it.

And when she did...
 

+++++++++++
 

"This sucks."

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "But according to this, it's the most widely read and the most celebrated all over North America," she said innocently.

Brown eyes glared up at her, unamused. "I'm serious, Buff. How the hell am I supposed to figure out how I can get Anya to be civil to me again if I can't even understand these stupid... things?"

Buffy sighed. "Xander... that's why these magazines are targeted toward women. Men aren't supposed to understand them. They're supposed to make fun of them and dance around, singing 'la, la, la' like they don't know any better. Which they don't, since they don't make these magazines for men."

Xander threw down the Cosmo, his lips forming a sullen pout. "Stupid chauvinistic women."

Buffy snorted and grabbed his arm, veering him away from the magazine aisles. "Xander, we have a job to do. We need to divide and conquer if we're gonna make it back to your place in time, then to the airport to welcome Willow and Giles back. Can I please trust you not to dive headfirst into women things that you never have, and never will have any knowledge about?"

Xander sighed, then puffed up his chest at Buffy's glare, saluting her. "Yes, Ma'am, right away, Ma'am!"

Buffy glared at him even more. "Stop it. Whenever you talk like that, it reminds of... someone who is army trained and married that I used to date and would prefer to not ever think about anymore ever again."

Xander grinned and shrugged weakly. "Sorry."

Dawn, who had tagged along for the endeavor, lagged behind the two at a safe, far distance, talking to Janice. The younger Summers had a few more friends now than she had the previous two years, but Janice was the only one who'd been involved in something supernatural with her -- bad, bad memories of Halloween night gone wrong last year.

Buffy had deemed it all right to let Janice in on Sunnydale's secrets, as long as she never blabbed to anyone else. Surprisingly, Janice had believed every single word she'd said, from Willow's former witchcraft stint, to Buffy being the Slayer, to Spike being the second vampire in history to ever be ensouled and in love with the Slayer.

"So, wait. You're saying that Spike's back? From Africa? Is that where you got that cool necklace from?"

Dawn smiled proudly, holding her chin up high as she showed off the hematite. "Exactly. He brought it back especially for me. He said that a shaman guy sensed that Spike was thinking about me, so the shaman guy gave him this to give to me."

Janice wrinkled her nose. "Isn't Africa all sunny? Why would he go there? How did he get there? I mean, without burning into cinders or something."

Dawn frowned, stopping. "I don't know." She shook her head and started walking again. "Note to self: Ask Spike more about Africa."

Janice peered toward Buffy and Xander, eying them cautiously. "Buffy doesn't know that he's back, does she?"

Dawn shook her head. "Spike doesn't want her to know. He says that she'll find him sooner or later and he'd rather not look like a big cardboard vampire cutout with a target painted over his heart. Nobody knows he's back except me -- and, well, now you." The teenager grimaced as she looked in Xander's direction. "Besides... Xander's not fond of Spike at all."

Janice gave her a skeptical look. "After all you've told me about their bad blood, you say that Xander's not fond of Spike?"

Dawn grinned. "Okay, okay, Xander abhors Spike. He can't stand him, wants to stake him, and all that icky creepiness. He really likes to believe that he's better than Spike, which, no, not really. And okay, maybe now, a smidgen, after the, uh, bathroom incident that I never told you about --" Dawn glared pointedly at Janice. The other teen nodded, smiling. "But now, Xander's just gotten really full of himself. At least till you mention Anya to him. Then he gets all flustered and pouty and all with the sob-stories and pity-me syndrome."

Janice grinned. "I totally get that. I mean, he's the one that screwed up. I know he was, like, scared or whatever, but he left her at the altar. Why couldn't he have talked to Anya and told her how he was feeling, instead of embarrassing her in front of her friends and family?"

Dawn shook her head. "I don't know. He's never tried anything like Spike did with Buffy, but that doesn't mean he's the most perfect guy to walk the face of the earth, and it doesn't give him the right to act like he is. I mean, Spike was soulless at the time, and he loved Buffy. But she dumped him, and it was eating him alive, you know?" The teenager quieted, staring at the ground. "I mean... all he wanted was for Buffy to love him back. That wasn't so much to ask, was it?"

Janice sighed and ran her fingers through her hair before shouldering Dawn gently. "Let's get off the gloomy topics, kay? Maybe we can get back to the magazine aisles and find out if there's anything on Seth Green or James Marsters." A wicked grin appeared on her lips. "You know, if you think about it, James kinda looks like Spike. Except, you know, he's American, and not a vampire."

Dawn looked at Janice in horror. "Ewww! Oh, god, Janice, come on! Spike's like my brother, I don't wanna compare him to James! I'm never gonna look at him the same ever again!"

Janice simply giggled and lead her to the 'zines. "Come on."
 

+++++++++++
 

"Hey." Nudge. "Hey." Nudge. "Buffy. Yoo-hoo. Earth to Buffy?" Double nudge.

"Xander, if you don't stop that, I'm gonna flip you into the mayonnaise jars."

Xander tilted his head. "Okay, mayo, good for the hair, but -- " He caught Buffy's glare. "Right. Anyway. Missing teenagers. Dawn and Janice went AWOL again."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "They're probably just in the magazine aisle drooling over Nick Carter or the Goo Goo Dolls or something."

Xander grunted. "How come they can go waste time, but I can't?"

The Slayer gave him a sideways glance. "Because they're teenage girls, not a twenty-two year old guy, Xander."

"Awww, fine."

He couldn't quite pull off the pouty lips. Not like Spike could -- < Train derailing, train derailing! Get back on track, Buffy! > "Yeah. Get the cheesy chips, Xand."

A quick nod and grin. "Right away, M'lady." He scuttled off. Hehe. Scuttled. Like Sebastian in The Little Mermaid.

Sigh. < Buffy's brain go boom. >

As soon as Xander ran to the snack aisle, more than likely to come back with about fifteen varieties of different chips, pretzels, and teeth-rotting, hyper-inducing, sugar-coma foods, Buffy pushed off, shoving the cart in the direction of the milk and dairy. She was just fiddling around with the Swiss cheese and the All-American white, when she stopped dead -- not literally.

Shock of white-blonde hair. Extremely familiar. Moving through the hair care section. Her heart thumped, and without a second thought, she took off after the head of hair.

Rounding the corner (and nearly bouncing the cart off of a rather heavy-set woman that was deciding on blonde or red-head), Buffy chased down Guy... wearing black jeans. He was wearing black jeans, she was short enough to see, and she could see his legs, and he was wearing black jeans!

He was just ahead of her, now, back turned, broad, muscular shoulders taut as he stretched up to capture the gel at the top of the shelf. Buffy bit her lower lip as she closed in. Oh, god. What was she going to say to him? What could she say to him? "Hi, thanks for coming back and giving me a chance to kick your ass for leaving?" Or how about, "So... wanna roll in the hay, for old times sake?"

Damn, was she that desperate to make a complete and utter ass out of herself? If she was counting her cards right, he would never let her live that down.

Ooh, ooh, he was right in front of her. She took a deep breath, then tentatively reached out a shaky hand to touch his shoulder. Buffy smiled weakly as he spun around...

Before it dropped completely. Not Spike. Random Guy with a bad bleach job. Now that she really looked, the hair was more yellowy-orange than platinum-white. And his body wasn't as lean and sinewy as Spike's. In fact, he looked like someone off of a bodice ripper book.

Hmph. Random Guy was now giving her a weird Look. "Can I help you?" he asked in confusion.

Buffy frowned and shook her head. Eyes were brown, not blue. No British accent. Not-Spike was a really shitty version of Her Spike. "No... Sorry," she mumbled, veering away. "Thought you were someone else."

Random Guy's weird Look softened into an apologetic and confused one. "Uh... sorry?" he called after her as she steered away.

Buffy sighed and turned the cart toward the snack aisles. "No; I am," she whispered. She'd been so stupid. Desperation to hear Spike's voice again, after all those months, couple with her recent hallucinations, had made her completely ignore a dormant Slayer tingly that was now reacting, and going positively haywire.

Buffy stopped and looked around, frowning. The presence was warm, comforting... enveloping her from every side. The presence was Spike's. But the vampire was nowhere in sight. His presence was there... but he wasn't.

Dammit, if he'd been killed and turned into a ghost for some reason, it only figured he'd come back and haunt her.

She inwardly cringed at the thought of Spike being dead -- permanently -- then shouldered it off. Her senses wouldn't be going off so strongly if Spike was a former vampire turned ghostie. The only time the tinglies got so strong was when there was a vampire somewhere. And there was definitely a vampire somewhere in that building.

She sighed again, then shrugged off her thoughts again. It was just her hallucinations getting the best of her. Spending so much time with a man who had spent a century plus taking care of a crazy woman had finally rubbed off on her. He wasn't back. And he wasn't going to come back. And she really had to learn to stop imagining him in her head. And it would help if she stopped talking to herself as well.

She needed to see a therapist.

As predicted, Xander came back to the cart, loaded down with snacks, some chemically treated, others chemically processed, but all good and fattening. Dawn and Janice came down the aisle, laughing and giggling with a magazine apiece. A pleading glance at Buffy, and the Slayer relented, signaling to them to toss the teenie-bops into the cart. Xander jogged over to the soda section and hauled down a few cheap, generic 2-liter pop bottles, placing them in the cart before he and his three female escorts made their way to the check-out.

From the hair-care aisle, Spike peered out at them, panting. Dammit; he'd really had to run that time to avoid Buffy catching him. If he didn't know any better, he would swear that she was following him! Well, she was following him tonight -- or rather, she was following someone who appeared to look like him, judging from her little display at the Indy Cart 500.

He shook his head. Maybe, if he was dense enough, he'd allow himself to believe that she missed him. But when he'd seen her face as she'd confronted his look-a-like, he'd seen a cross between wanting to hug him and wanting to hurt him.

Needless to say, Spike wasn't going to let himself get disillusioned.

Sighing, he reached for a box of bleaching formula (his hair was sticking out at about an inch now, and he was certain that the roots looked repulsive) and slipped it into the pocket of the heavy brown leather jacket he'd worn < two years ago to try to impress her, and look where that got me. >

Shooting a glance at the check-out line near him (and specifically, at Buffy), he shoved through the mob of people desperate to make it out before the store closed and they got screwed over, until he reached the exit. Then he plowed out as fast as his vampiric speed would allow him so he wouldn't trip the alarm.

Heading for the side of the building, he flipped out the box of cigarettes he'd stolen from the 7-Eleven earlier, took one out and put the box away, then pulled out his Zippo, lighting up the fag quickly. He leaned back and rested the back of his head against the wall, closing his eyes.

He wasn't sure how long he remained in that position, but the sound of an angry female voice jolted him awake instantly. Fearing that the Slayer had discovered him, he cowered further in the shadows and listened as silently as possible.

"Stop it! LET GO!" Frustrated, angry growl. "I mean it! Let go of me, now!"

Sounds of a bit of a struggle. Spike's eyes widened when the female's scent hit him, and he recognized her voice.

Not Buffy. Not at all. Buffy could take care of herself, and nobody could really hold her still.

That... was Dawn.
 
 
 

TBC...
 

"Are you okay?"

Dawn lowered her eyes, clutching an ice pack to her forearm. "Yeah, yeah, 'm fine."

Buffy was pacing in front of her, her arms crossed. A look of barely contained worry, fury and fear was on her face, and her eyes darted around the room before settling on her sister. "Are you? Huh, Dawn? Are you really fine? You don't look so fine to me. You look like you just got your ass knocked to the ground and the hell nearly beaten out of you, by a vampire!"

The teenager refused to look at the blonde woman, turning her head to the side to stare at her muddy jeans. "At least I'm not dead," she muttered.

Buffy stormed over to her and grasped her chin, tilting it up and revealing the two pinpricks on the crook of her neck. "No, but you came pretty damn close, Dawn!" She let go and turned away, running her fingers through her blonde locks in frustration. "What the hell were you thinking? Tell me, Dawn, because I'm lost, I don't understand! You know better than to go out at night by yourself, so why the hell did you? I mean... Christ, Dawn, you crept off when we were in line at the damn grocery store! What in the hell was so damn important that you just took off like that?!"

Dawn shut her eyes tightly and sniffed, then looked directly at her sister. In a strained, tearful voice and between clenched teeth, she forced out, "I thought I saw Spike."

That was a lie. A really, really, really big lie. Cuz she had seen Spike. She'd gotten pretty damn good at detecting blurry black forms with lightning white hair moving at top speed. And she'd seen said form as it sped past the shoppers and shot through the doors, not even leaving a single blip on the shoplifting mechanism. Which, of course, would be the only reason Spike would be here – after all, he didn't really have any money.

Dawn had slipped past the others and run out the door after him, but stopped when it became apparent that he was hiding. Annoying as that was, she left her common sense behind her and began looking for him. Which was when that stupid fledgling had shown up, hoping to get a free meal off of an unwary passerby.

She had fought back well, just like Buffy had taught her, when she'd made a tiny slip, and threw a left when she should have thrown a right. The vamp had caught her arm and twisted it back hard, leaving her with a severely pulled muscle. Knocking her down, he'd thrown himself on top of her and had just barely nicked her neck when suddenly, he'd exploded, dust raining down on her body. Spike's face had appeared, and she'd grabbed his extended hand, pulling herself up.

After checking her over, and rather prolongingly (she wasn't sure if he was doing it because of his obligation to her, or just to indulge her with special one-on-one Spike attention), Spike had stood straight up, wide blue eyes focused on the store. As Dawn watched him, he began to back up fearfully, looking for all the world like a small, frightened little boy at the imminent approach of his former lover. The former lover who was still his pain-stakingly out-of-reach love. He'd just backed out of sight completely when Buffy had stormed toward Dawn.

Buffy's entire demeanor softened at Dawn's choked voice... and at the mention of Spike. So Dawn thought that she'd seen him, too? Maybe she wasn't going crazy...

She moved to her sister and bent down to her knees in front of her. Giving Dawn her best apologetic look, she smiled weaklyand said, "Dawnie... sweetie, I'm sorry. I know I'm coming down hard on you, but honest to God, you scared the bejeezus out of me." She cupped Dawn's cheek gently and her smile strengthened. "I know you can take care of yourself now. But I'm the Slayer. I'm still your big sister. So I'm the Head Cheese. I worry about you." She gave the teen a pointed look. "And it would be really nice if you indulged big sis, once in a while. All I ask is that the next time you think you see something," <especially Spike>, "please, PLEASE, tell me first. Before you decide to go off and nearly get yourself killed."

Dawn gave her that look -- the one where she thought Buffy was being especially over-protective of her for Buffy's own benefit, and that she was seriously contemplating saying no, just to see what her sister would do. Then her eyes cleared, which meant that she was reconsidering it and relenting. Dawn rolled her eyes and shifted her hurt arm. The bright blue irises peered up at her and softened, reading the hopeful, pleading look on Buffy's face. She nodded slowly, sighing. "Okay. I promise. And I'm fine. Really, it's just a bruise and a scratch, I'll be good to go in no time."

Buffy smiled, giving Dawn a quick, relieved hug. "I hope so." Sighing, she stood up and flopped into seat next to Dawn. "So," she started, hoping to God that her voice sounded all nonchalant, "What exactly did you see that convinced you to piston off after a Spike Look-A-Like?"

Dawn gave her sister a disbelieving Look. "Duh. The usual signs." At Buffy's blank look she sighed, waving her free arm. "Hello? You know? White-blonde hair, all black, really pale skin, tall, skinny, lean-looking?" The teenager paused and frowned. "It's kind of unnerving how many people in Sunnydale resemble him from behind."

There was a loud, unlady-like snort from the Slayer, and Buffy leaned back. "I'll say. I thought I was hallucinating for a second when I saw a clone in the hair-care aisle." <Best not to mention how *much* I've been seeing clones. It could get Dawn's hopes up.>

Dawn smiled weakly. Of course, that was only on the outside. Inwardly, she was doing an Irish jig. Hell, she was doing fricking RiverDance. <Buffy's been having Spike-visions? Busted!> she thought delightedly. "You've been seeing Spike, too, huh?" She looked down, sighing. "Glad it's not just me."

She hazarded a glance at her sister when Buffy remained silent. She looked sullen; unhappy. Finally, she answered, in a broken tone. "No. Not just you."
 
 
 

Stupid movie. Oh, the irony: a vampire watching vampires. He grunted to himself. < People putting too much of a fix on Dracula > he thought, scowling. Unbelievable.

Chick on the screen screaming about blood. Look at the blood. Nice blood. All red, and shiny, and... pulsing with... life and... and...

Oh, hell, now he was hungry.

Damned if he wasn't having a bit of deja vu. Oh, well. He sighed and scowled down at his stomach as it growled, before hauling himself out of his chair.

He closed his eyes and drew a deep, useless breath, then reached into his little refrigerator, pulling out a jar of blood. Unscrewed the lid. Lifted it to his lips.

Sound of the door being pushed open.

Horror collected onto Spike's face as he realized why exactly it was that he was having deja vu. This had been the premise of he and Buffy's invisible tryst the year before. He squeezed his eyes shut, hot, blood-tinged tears that hadn't been called upon leaking out from under his eyelids and leaving bright red streams down his pale, sunken cheeks. "Please, no," he whispered, sinking to his knees. "God, please, not this again... Don't torture me like this, please..."

Soft, feminine footsteps crept inside, and then... her soft voice... reaching into his dead, lonely, aching heart: "Spike? Are you here?"

He sniffed and wrapped his arms around his legs, drawing his knees to his chest, sniffling as he cowered next to the sarcophagus. He couldn't let her see him, couldn't let her know he was there. His nightmares had been getting worse, and he wasn't in any condition to be in her vicinity right then, right there. Besides, bad things would happen the second she found him. Glorious, earth-shaking things, things that he'd wanted from her for years... but things bad enough that they would leave his agonized heart whirling 'round in a garbage disposal if they happened again.

She spoke up again: "Spike? Please... if you're here -- and I know you are, so stop hiding... could you please come out? I need to talk to you."

Spike sniffed again, choosing to remain in the shadows. "How'd you know I was here?" he asked, quietly, his voice rough and low.

The footsteps neared, then stopped at the edge of the sarcophagus. "Dawn told me," she murmured gently.

Oh, he was gonna kill her. "Big mouth," he muttered.

He heard the sound of a half-amused laugh. "That's Dawnie for ya." The footsteps came closer to him. He dared to raise his eyes -- at least a little, to see her feet. Oh. Cute, little silver-painted Slayer toes. Little silver toe ring on the second toe of the left foot. Little wicker-like platform sandals that criss-crossed over the top, and -- dammit!

"So..." she started softly, shuffling her feet and shifting onto her right foot. "You came back."

Spike grunted. "Yeah, an' I'm kicking myself for it, believe me."

Buffy leaned against the wall, sliding down to the ground next to him. Distinctly hurt voice. "Why?"

Spike chanced another glance at her, then instantly regretted it. Gods, she was exquisite. Floofy, sunbleached blonde hair, nearly white now. She had bangs -- he hadn't seen her wear bangs since the first time he'd met her. Puffy-sleeved shirt -- boat-necked -- hanging on her tiny, skinny, muscular form. Gold skin positively glowing, though it was pitch black in his little House of Death, save for the precious few candles. And... well, hell.

He growled softly. < I'm not s'posed to want her anymore, > he reminded himself. Stupid bloody wish demon. Why couldn't things go his way for once?

He looked down again. "Because you don't need me here. Gumming up the works, making your head all topsy-turvy, ruining your patrolling an' what-not. I never should've come back... I don't even know why I did."

An awkward silence. Then, a tiny Slayer hand closing over his clenched fist, gently stroking the hard line of muscles and bones. "I'm glad you did."

Spike started, jerking his hand away. He stared at her, wide-eyed and fearful. "Don't... don't touch me. You don't need to, shouldn't have to. I'm evil, remember? I..." he trailed off, looking down. "I tried to rape you," he whispered.

They both winced at the guttural sound of the word. Harsh, hurtful, painful... just like their relationship. What a perfect end to such a twisted connection. It could have been better -- it should have been better, for the both of them. Their relationship could've ended better than it had. Their relationship itself should have been better than that. And Buffy couldn't pass it off onto someone else -- most of the downward spiral had been her fault anyway.

Too late. Always too late.

Buffy reached for him again, this time cupping his chin, stroking his smooth, angled cheek with the back of her hand. "You tried," she agreed. "You didn't--"

"Because you stopped me!" he cried. "The only reason I stopped was because you kicked me into the bloody wall! Buffy, what if you hadn't? What if you'd been too hurt to... to do anything, what if you couldn't have stopped me, and what if I couldn't have stopped? I couldn't stop! Buffy, I would have raped you, and I wouldn't have even known it! You should be damned lucky you managed to kick me away!"

Buffy stood up again, staring down at him. "Well, Spike, what the hell do you want me to say? That you fucked up? Yeah, you did, there's no way to smooth that over. But I fucked up, too. I used you, I twisted you into a knot, I stuffed you into a fucking closet and pulled you out when I needed you for a good release, like a fucking dildo! So don't bullshit around and complain and whine and say that it was all your fault! What the hell kind of person would I be if I let you take all the blame?" She dropped back down to hers knees and cupped his chin, lifting his head so his gaze was level with hers.

"Spike... all you did was love me, and all you wanted was for me to love you back. And I ignored your feelings. I used you, selfishly, and I'll never forgive myself for that. I know you love me, you've shown me more than once, and I tried to pass it off as obsession and lust. You tried to protect me... like when the Trio made me think I'd killed Katrina. You just wanted to stop me from turning myself in so I'd still be there for Dawn. And in the end, I found out I hadn't even killed her at all. And you wanted to take care of me. Like at the Doublemeat Palace, when you tried to get me to quit? You said you could get money, and you told me that I was too good to work there. You were just trying to take care of me, then. And I'm sorry I didn't stop and listen to you, hear what you had to say."

Sighing softly, she pulled him toward her, resting her head against his shoulder. "I can't forgive myself now, for the things I did to you. But maybe I can start if you forgive me. I know I don't deserve it, and you don't have to mean it, but I just need to hear it to get on the right foot, Spike." She tilted her head up, sparkling green eyes scanning his fate hopefully. "I'm so sorry, Spike. Will you please forgive me?"

Spike was quivering. These words, these kind, apologetic words that were pouring out of his beloved Slayer's mouth, were for him. He, Spike, who had caused her more pain than... well, than anything. There had been a point in time when he'd hated her so much that he'd lived for nothing but her pain, both physical and emotional. Now he could barely stand it if she so much as stubbed her toe. He'd tried to rape her, he'd betrayed her trust in the worst possible way, and she was asking him to forgive her. How the hell did that work? How could he bestow forgiveness on her, when he'd gotten everything he'd deserved from her? How could he even have the right to forgive her when he'd tortured her so much?

How could he forgive her when he couldn't even forgive himself for a single thing in his century-plus-twenty-two years?

But that look she was giving him... that look was hopeful, and depressing, and begging and pleading... She wanted him to forgive her, even though he'd been the one to eternally fuck things up between them.

Well... he'd never been able to deny her anything before. Even though he didn't feel he had the right to bestow forgiveness on her... it was what she wanted. And he'd always do whatever she wanted.

His lips creaked open, and his cool, moist tongue darted out to refresh them, before he whispered, sincerely, "I forgive you, Buffy." < But can you forgive me? > he thought dismally.

The smooth, golden hand touched his face again, and his attention jerked toward her. Her tiny hand clasped his large one, and Buffy brought it slowly to her lips, kissing the back of it gently. Her eyes were sparkling again as she looked up at him... like she was reading his mind, she whispered, "I forgive you, Spike."

His chest convulsed. Had she... she had just... Holy hell... she really had.

Either he'd died for the second time, and was mixed up in the afterlife, being sent to Heaven, or Buffy had finally gone insane.

He chanced another glance at her, her wide, loving eyes, her soft, smooth lips curving up into a gentle smile...

Oh, damn, he was dead. There was no way on earth the real Buffy would forgive him for the things he'd done to her. For the things he'd plotted doing to her before he'd even met her, when she'd simply been known to him as 'Slayer' instead of 'Buffy,' his love, his life.

Well, if he was dead, this was better than being on earth.

He let out a soft sigh of relief and dropped his head to her shoulder, snuggling into the crook of her neck. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered, grabbing her tightly.

He felt her smile and she reached up to gently stroke his hair, her smile growing wider when he butted his head against her hand like a cat. "It's all right, Spike," she murmured soothingly, pulling him close. "It's all right now... you're safe, you're forgiven." He felt her lips press a kiss to his forehead, and he purred, snuggling closer.

After a moment, he peered up at her, biting his lower lip hopefully. It was such a childish thing to do, and the sight of it made him look so sweet that Buffy had to smile. "I still love you," he whispered. "I really do... I mean, I know you'll not feel anything for me... you don't love me... but just so you know... I still do. Love you."

Buffy's smile grew. "I know, Spike. I know you do. And I realized it a while ago... right after you left." The corner of her mouth drooped, and she gave him half-smile. "You know me. Queen of De Nile. Of course I wouldn't figure it out until you were gone. But I know, Spike. I know you love me." Her hand reached up to stroke his hair again. "And I love you, too."
 
 

Spike's eyes shot wide open, and he stared up in disbelief where Buffy was... wait. Where Buffy had been. She was gone now. He looked down around himself and frowned. Crumpled bedsheets. He wasn't anywhere near the sarcophagus. Buffy hadn't found him, courtesy of the Big Mouth he called 'Dawn.' Buffy had never been there.

Bloody hell. Of course it would be a dream.

He sighed and leaned back, his spirits dampened. But then, a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth. What a dream it had been though. Buffy had said she'd loved him.

It was more than he ever could have wanted.

Sighing, he snuggled back into the sheets, grabbing his pillow 'round the middle and hugging it close. His head fell down into the little crook he'd made (a substitution for Buffy's neck, he guessed) and smiled slightly.

His dreams now were filled with terror and pain and guilt from his past actions, but on the off-chance that that the soul wasn't being a self-righteous bitch about his sins, it tended to give him a rare, precious few good dreams. When it did, they usually meant something important. And he couldn't think of anything more important than what his Dream-Buffy had just told him.

Even if he never saw her face to face again, the reassurance and love he felt from those final five words she'd spoken in his dream would be enough to sustain him for the next century and a half.

He rather liked the dreams now.
 
 
 

She was never going to step foot into an airport ever again.

Dawn had sworn the whole way there, unable to understand exactly why she had to go anyway (she still wasn't exactly big with the whole Willow forgiving thing). Buffy had been nearly livid, being attacked and torn apart from every direction inside -- anger and sympathy at Dawn (for tonight and her vamp attack the night before). Relief at seeing Giles. Apprehension because of Willow. Annoyance at Xander (who was heading full-steam into his 'I'm hella nervous, so I'm telling bad jokes' stage), plus an attack of depression from the newest bout of Spike-induced guilt, Spike-missage, Spike-hate, Spike-love, and all other things Spike.

Oh, no, she was definitely putting the past behind her.

Dawn had welcomed Willow back with a stiff nod and handshake; Giles received a weary smile and a hug, and after Xander had welcomed the two back, Dawn had dragged him off toward a kiosk to extort numerous amounts of candy and magazines out of him. The rest of the way home after that, any nice-ity Willow had attempted toward the girl had either been ignored or met with a cold glare.

< Well, > Buffy thought, < Willow tried to kill her twice, so I guess it's justified, even if it is a lot rude. >

It was nearly one in the morning now, and she and Giles were the only ones up. It was a good thing, seeing her Watcher again. She'd been scared as hell the first time he'd left her, having to fend for herself, when Giles and her mother had always been there for her. She'd been exuberant and relieved when he'd returned in May, though it had majorly sucked that the cause of his visit had been under such dire circumstances.

Now, as she sat there watching him sip his tea and glower at some inept reporter on the television, she puzzled worriedly over whether to tell him about her Spike-plagued thoughts. Giles had made it no secret that he wasn't fond of Spike, though to be honest, at one point, he'd had infinite more respect for the blonde than he'd had for Angel. Of course, most of that had stemmed from the fact that Angelus had been torturing him for an hour at the time, and Spike had finally put a stop to it.

But Giles did not like Spike, especially not after Buffy's affair with him last year. She wasn't sure if Giles understood that most of it had been her own doing. That sleeping with him had been her own decision, and that she'd used him, not the other way around. At one time, Buffy had figured that sleeping with Spike might shut him up and put a stop to all his nonsense of loving her. But when fucking him into the ground had only proved to make his admissions even more pronounced, she hadn't been able to do anything but break things off. And now with him gone, it was safe to admit that she was going absolutely crazy without him.

"Giles?"

The Watcher barely peered up from his glowering. He looked like he was ready to reach through the television set and throttle the news announcer. 'Gang on PCP,' indeed. Someone had been taking lessons from Snyder and the Mayor. "Hmm?"

Buffy bit her lower lip nervously. "I... W-Well, the thing is... I, uh... I sort of.... miss... Spike."

Giles stopped with the teacup halfway to his lips, then shot the apprehensive girl a sideways glance. He sighed internally. Hoo, boy, he should've known this was coming.

He shifted in his seat, turning kind, unjudging eyes to her. What Buffy needed right then was someone to listen to her, not judge her and ask her if she was completely off her rocker. Which was probably why she'd waited to ask him until after Xander had gone and Willow and Dawn were asleep. "And?" he prompted gently.

Buffy squirmed around a little, sitting on top of her hands in an effort to not grab a pillow and rip it to shreds in frustration. "And... um... well, I'm not the only one. Dawn misses him, too." She looked up suddenly with desperate eyes. "But why should I miss him? After what he did to me? I feel like he's around all the time, watching me, waiting for me to slip up again, so he can laugh and point and say, 'I warned you,' or something else irritatingly profound to show that... that somehow, someway, he was right, and I was wrong about something." She whimpered. "Make it stop!"

Giles couldn't control the tiny smile that wormed it's way onto his lips. When it came to her romances (as of late, anyway), Buffy had a habit of trying to pool it off on other people for advice. He sighed softly, tilting his head slightly to the right. "What would you like me to stop, Buffy?"

She grabbed her head, clutching at her hair. "This! All of it! The pain, the guilt, the nostalgia... for God's sake, Giles, I miss Spike! Evil, soulless, tried-to-kill-me-numerous-times-and-nearly-raped-me-once Spike! Why would I miss him? After everything he's done to me, after everything he's put me through? He's still up here," she pointed at her head, "still taunting me, and teasing me, and telling me that he loves me, and that I'm never gonna find anyone else, because anyone else would never love me as much as he does!"

She took a deep breath. "The night after the first... time," she looked at Giles wearily and, finding him resolutely quiet, continued on, "He told me that after what we'd done, I'd never be able to get him out of my skin. And it feels like he's right, and I don't want that! I want him out, I want him to leave me alone! He's been gone for four months, and he still won't leave me alone, Giles! Why can't I get him out? Why won't he let me be?"

Giles faced her, turning fully in his seat to watch as her big hazel eyes filled with tears. He gestured to her, and in an instant, Buffy had thrown herself at him, burying her face in his chest and crying. He sighed. His poor, brave little girl. Unable to deal with her guilt, unable to deal with her love, unable to give the ones she loved their due.

And absolutely, positively scared to death of letting another in.

It frightened him, this fact. Somehow, he'd always known it would have come down to this. Buffy had always had too much passion when dealing with Spike, and vice versa. He'd noticed this the first time Spike had come to Sunnydale. When Spike had crashed into the old high school on Parent-Teacher Night (and before Giles had grabbed Jenny and Xander and barricaded themselves in the library), the way Spike had looked at the young Slayer had been... almost overwhelming with desire. And unnervingly connected in some places with lust and hunger. Buffy was what he hoped would be his third recorded Slayer, and he'd been anxious for the thrill of the fight more than anything.

He'd noticed that Buffy and Spike had always been strangely possessive of one another. When it came right down to fighting each other, Spike always went for Buffy, and Buffy never overlooked Spike.

Buffy had even said it herself once: when she'd met Spike, she'd met her match. Spike was every bit her opposite, and at the same time, the only one she truly felt equal to. He matched her strength and skill blow for blow, right down to their battle of wits and smarts. They were cut from the same swatch; the only problem was that Buffy tended to overlook that. Over the years, she'd begun to prefer thinking of vampires and demons, and all other things without souls were beneath her. And she tended to get carried away when it came down to Spike, her resident, chipped-up vampire punching bag.

He should've been wiser, should have seen it earlier. Buffy had overcompensated in her disgust toward Spike ever since the 'will be done' spell Willow had cast to make them believe they were engaged. She'd carried on with Spike, almost as if she were attempting to convince, not only the others, but herself, that she hated him as well. Her return from death hadn't really helped things either.

Buffy had been sobbing in his arms for almost ten minutes, and her tears had just now begun to dry. "Make him go away... make me stop thinking about him, please..." she whimpered quietly, and Giles frowned. He had no idea what to say to her that wouldn't set her off -- another thing that the Slayer and Spike had in common. Both had fiery, uncontrollably short-tempers, and were both as stubborn as asses. The only difference between their characters was that while Buffy denied everything and anything under the sun that didn't fit comfortably into her world view, Spike had been honest -- brutally honest. A day could truly not have gone by without one of his sarcastic words, or harsh opinions.

"Buffy," he murmured gently, nudging her up and off his chest. Giles gazed down at her, warmth and love in his eyes. "What is it, precisely, that you want me to make go away? What... what is it that you feel for him?"

Buffy stared at him, her expression stating that the final apocalypse would come with the words she said. "Love?" she questioned more than stated, her voice breaking at the end. "I think... I don't know... do I love him? Do I even want to?" She looked down. "I shouldn't. It's wrong. I shouldn't still want him after all that's happened. I shouldn't feel like my heart is getting ripped in half every time I look at his old duster, or when I hear his name, or when I see anything or anyone that reminds me of him. I shouldn't feel this way. But I can't stop... I can't help it, Giles." She stared at him, defeated. Her flood of tears had broken open the door labeled 'Spike Emotions' that she'd kept so well hidden over the last few years. And for once, not only was she thinking clearly when it came to Spike... but she was being honest. With Giles, and with herself. "I... think I'm in love with him."

She sniffled, putting her face in her hands. "Only I realized it too late. Again. And he's gone. He's just..."

Her head shot up as she heard the floorboards creak upstairs. Giles followed her gaze, and after a moment, he heard it too. A thump sounded on the roof above the porch, and Buffy frowned. The only people who had ever had the nonsense to climb onto the porch roof had been Angel, herself, and...

Her eyes widened, and she dashed up the stairs. Rounding the corner, she burst into her old room, then winced and crept slowly to the window when she remembered that Willow was sleeping in there now. Spike didn't know that she had changed rooms; he probably thought she still resided in her old one, and would probably be beyond confused if he found Willow there instead.

Opening the window, she leaned on the tips of her toes and peered out hopefully. "Spike?" she whispered. She glanced around for a full minute, but her vamp detection didn't go off. Not once. Her lower lip trembled and she called his name again. And again. Until she was practically begging.

"Spike, come back... please come back," she whimpered.

Ten minutes later, she sighed and lowered her head. If she stayed here any longer, she was going to wake up Willow. And it looked like her begging was a bust. If it had been Spike, he'd probably high-tailed it the second he'd heard her feet pound up the steps. And if it hadn't been... well, she'd just been imagining things again.

Shaking her head, she left her old room, then down the hall to poke open Dawn's room. Her eye scanned the bedroom all over until it glanced toward the bed and --

Her insides froze. Dawn wasn't in bed. And the window was open. Buffy's teeth clenched. Oooh, she was gonna kill the little brat. That was what the thump on the roof had been. Dawn had snuck out the window and down the tree. Buffy groaned to herself. "Dammit, I knew I shouldn't have let her catch me all those times. She's turning into me!"

She jogged down the stairs, nearly jumping out of her skin when Giles stopped her. "What is it, Buffy?"

The Slayer sighed. "We have an escapee on our hands. Dawn snuck out. And I think I have a vague idea of where she might be. Stay here so Willow won't be alone." She walked to the hall and grabbed her coat. "I'll go and see if I can find her before some Big Bad tries to make her into Snack Sizes."
 
 
 

"Gin!"

Spike scowled. "Dammit, Nibblet, that's not fair!" He leaned over her, attempting to see her cards. "How the hell do you figure you managed that?"

Dawn grinned and whapped him on the nose with the cards. "Luck?"

Spike snorted. "Sheer dumb luck. Wicca Girl hasn't been teaching you magic or nothing, has she?"

Dawn glared at him, her features turning stone cold. "No. I told you. I refuse to have anything to do with her. Every time she gets near me, she seems to want to kill me. And I'm getting really sick of every evil baddy trying to use me as a pawn in their game against Buffy!"

Spike held up his hands in surrender, backing away. "Okay, okay. Sorry. Just asking, 'Bit."

She grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I know."

Spike smirked, then his eyes lit up and he jumped up. "I got somethin' for you."

The teenager's patented 'ooh, prezzies' Look took over her face. "Really? What? Anything cool? Dragon fang or something?"

The vampire turned and stared at her strangely. "No... CD's."

Dawn grinned. "Ooh! Even better!"

Spike shook his head. It wasn't very often that a sixteen-year-old girl could scare the crap out of him.

He went over to his dresser, pulling out the Linkin Park album and the Our Lady Peace CD. Walking over to the brunette, he handed them to Dawn, watching as her face lit up, before the frown appeared.

"Hey... I already have this CD. And Buffy's got this one, I can borrow it anytime. Why're you giving these to me?"

Spike grinned. "Because you let me borrow your CD, remember? And Buffy... in a way... kind of let me borrow the Our Lady Peace."

Dawn raised her eyebrows. "How did she 'kind of, in a way' let you borrow it?"

"I nicked it."

"It figures."

Spike threw a pillow at her. "Shut up."

Dawn laughed, then took a closer look at the CD. Looked up at Spike, confused. "These are new. I've had Linkin Park for about 2 years already."

Spike's upper lip quirked. "Uh... yeah. That's cuz... uh... well, Clem sat on 'em."

Dawn's eyes widened. "Clem sat on them so you went and bought us new ones?"

Spike shrugged. "Uh, yeh. I did."

A grateful smile came onto her face, before being replaced once again with a frown. "Clem sat on them?!"

Spike chuckled. "Jus' before I left. Plopped down right on top of 'em, the big behemoth, heard 'em crack. Stood up and CD pieces were stuck to his ass."

Dawn snorted. "Euw... I'm glad you didn't try to piece them together for me."

Spike nodded. "Me, too. I had to help Clem get the damn things out, and that was fun enough."

Giggling, she continued. "Not to mention the fact that Buffy would never forgive you if she found out that you 'borrowed' her CD, Clem sat on it, and you had to dig it out of his butt."

Spike glared at her. "Thanks for the support, luv." < Not to mention the fact that she's never gonna forgive me anyway. >

Comfortable silence for a moment as they restacked the cards. Then, from Spike: "So, ah... how... is Buffy?"

A-ha! Hint time! Maybe she could get him to actually listen to her this time. "Depressed, mostly. She can't sleep too well. And, like I told you before, she's been really mopey since you've been gone --"

Spike sighed. "Bit..."

Innocence all around. "What? You asked me how she was, and I'm telling you!"

Spike frowned at her. "Pidge, I can't come out in the open and face her, you know that. She needs me to leave her alone, and coming after her to try and make her feel better doesn't exactly qualify as leaving her alone."

Upstairs, the crypt door opened and shut, but Spike didn't hear, because Dawn was suddenly wailing.

"Spike, please! She needs to see you, I know she does! She's doing so well, but every time someone mentions your name she resorts to No-Speak-Buffy. And it sucks, it really, really sucks, because you're holding her back like that. She needs to see you, she needs to know you're back, so she can move on, and then maybe you two can, like, forgive each other and get on with it!"

Spike frowned, standing up and moving around her. "Dawn, I can't! She made it perfectly obvious to me that she doesn't want me around, so why should I ruin her perfect little illusions by popping right back up and pissing her off all over again? What the hell's the point? Why should I do that to her?"

Dawn pouted. "Spike, she misses you. You know she does, you know you miss her too! So stop with the missing and get with the loving already! Just. Go. See her!"

Spike spun and looked at her, his back to the steps. "NO, Dawn! She doesn't need me around, doesn't want me around, and I'm not about to fuck up her life again! She's gonna find me soon anyway, and when she does, I'm as good as dead. Just leave it be. At least now, I might stand a chance, fight back a little bit, but when it's over, Buffy's gonna finish me off. I'm done for, and it's better that way. I love her too much to stand in her way, and I'm not about to -- " he stopped, seeing that she'd lost her focus on him. She didn't look remotely interested anymore. In fact, she looked downright terrified. "Bit? Baby? What is it?"

Dawn swallowed hard and pointed behind him. And suddenly, Spike was rushed with an onslaught of emotion. Dread filled him as the familiar tingling ran up his spine. He turned around slowly and stared at the steps in absolute fear.

The young, blonde woman standing on the steps gaped at him with something akin to horror.

"Spike?"
 
 

TBC...

Time was threatening to freeze. The cliché was a bit annoying to her, but it definitely seemed to fit now. Memories began slamming into her left and right, starting nearly two seconds before she even laid eyes on him. Images of soft, smooth, hard ivory muscles, skating over her. Strong but gentle hands caressing every curve and line of her body. Soft, full lips and an icy tongue making love to her own, before descending and marking every inch of her body as his own, laving her skin with a century plus worth of knowledge and experience. Cold, dead (yet still very much alive) azure eyes, flecked with gray and silver, all knowing, penetrating, pleading, commanding; hunger, respect, lust, concern and love could all be conveyed in just a single glance.

Her heart convulsed and her tiny hand, clutching the ladder rung above her, splintered the wood.

Spike, for his part, did not flinch at the disbelief and anger fighting for dominance on her lovely face, but he averted his own gaze all the same. His eyes were half-closed, and he seemed to be steeling himself for a warrior's cry, an attack, a stab, before death -- at the very least.

Buffy drew a deep breath, then looked down at the broken piece of wood in her hand. Unconsciously, she lowered herself to the ground, then took several tentative steps forward.

Was this really happening to her? She was nervous in front of Spike? Since when had she ever been nervous in front of Spike? She usually plowed through him, blustering on and on about something that was wrong with her life before she resumed the throne of Denial and blamed everything on him, even when he hadn't even done anything.

Well, shit; she'd inadvertently thrust herself into a guilt-fest. Hmph. At least she was learning to feel bad about the crap-lot she'd given him over the last five years.

Hmm. She was forgetting something as her brain began to simultaneously brood and bitch at her. It was something important, and it was right on the tip of her tongue... and if she hadn't been sleeping during Professor Walsh's class half the time in college, she could probably remember what that phenomena had been called, and she'd be slightly happier. A little brain-fried, and no where near Sigmund Freud, but happy.

Speaking of, Freud's 16-year-old reincarnation was trying to edge her way around Spike's old dresser without attracting the Slayer's attention. Buffy cleared her throat loudly, then pointed to a lone chair in the corner of the room. Dawn stood up straight, armed but not particularly dangerous with Sullen Teenage Glare #503, and shuffled to the chair, her head down. Buffy's gaze cooled slightly. If the brat thought she was gonna get away with not even letting Buffy know that Spike was back...

Oh! That was what she was forgetting!

She looked cautiously back at the bleach-haired vampire, and drew another deep breath. Holy shit. Spike was back.

"When?" she asked, her voice soft. She saw his eyes flicker towards her before darting back to the floor.

"Two... three weeks. Not much more'n that."

A beat.

"I see."

She was piecing things together, or rather, the Automatic Buffy Guilt Trigger in the back of her mind was. Three weeks... that meant that she had seen him outside her window during that rainstorm. It also meant that he'd been hiding in the bushes that other time, and she had possibly been following him at the store last night. When Dawn had said that she'd thought she'd seen him as well. Which meant...

"Dawn. I'm grounding you for two weeks. No arguments. You've been lying to me about where you've been going at day and night; about why you were coming here of all places. You're to do as you're told. No TV, but you can have your radio and CDs. Fair, or no?"

Dawn bit her lower lip and nodded slowly. No TV sucked -- she'd gotten sort of sucked into it over the summer -- but at least she still had other entertainment.

"I don't want you coming here by yourself anymore," Buffy continued. She was doing a real good job of avoiding dangerous/beautiful Spike Eyes. "If you want to visit, tell me, I'll walk you, until you prove yourself trustworthy again. Or your two weeks are up, whatever comes first."

Dawn nodded again. Buffy looked down. < Avoid Spike eyes, avoid Spike eyes! >

"Go upstairs, Dawn. We," she indicated herself and Spike, who gulped, "Need to have a private talk."

Spike's eyes widened and, truth be told, he looked positively terrified, shaking his head pleadingly at Dawn. Dawn gave him a helpless glance, then mouthed 'I'm sorry' as she left the lower level.

Dawn closed her eyes and crossed her fingers. She had gotten off extremely lucky. But Spike had been gone for four months, having left after the worst possible thing that had ever happened in their solemn little group. And returning with a soul. A soul he'd gotten for Buffy. Who didn't know about said soul.

She bit her lip. Dawn didn't know her sister's exact stand on the Spike issue, but she prayed that Violent!Repressive!Buffy wouldn't make an appearance, and, for once, would hear Spike out.

Yeah. She thought it was wishful thinking, too.
 
 

 

He was nervous. Buffy was pacing, and Buffy only paced when she was extremely close to biting off a head. Not to mention the fact that her eyes would flicker up and glance in his direction every few seconds before she went right back to the pacing. And silence. Silence was a big Thing with her right now.

Had he said he was nervous? Nervous didn't even begin to cover how he felt right now.

Spike watched her cautiously, although his head was lowered. Honestly, he welcomed whatever punishment Buffy had in store for him. He had, after all, tried to rape her, and even worse, he'd left town. (In the Buffy Book of Logic, Spike had discovered that leaving town was at the top of the No-No List -- worse than rape) Whatever it was that she was trying to make her mind up to doing, hell, he deserved it.

But just because he felt like an awful, dirty, bottom-sucking bastard that deserved to die... didn't mean he wanted to. He kept his eyes on Buffy in case of an ambush.

After a while (and a longer bit of pacing, in which Buffy had nearly worn a trough through the dirt floor of the crypt), the Slayer stopped, turned to Spike, and opened her mouth for an exact count of five seconds before snapping it shut again. Apparently not trusting the anxious words that had attempted to bounce past her lips. She shook her head, sighed and then, to Spike's utmost annoyance, began pacing again.

He watched her with a scrupulous expression on his face until Buffy stopped -- finally. Taking a deep breath, she stalked toward him boldly. Spike flinched (which caused Buffy to wince at her seemingly violent approach, though Spike didn't see her do so) and he sank down onto his charred bed. This was it. She was finally gonna do her duty and put an end to his miserable existence, like she should have done the night he'd --

"Where were you?"

Spike's head shot up, dark eyebrows knit together in confusion. Why wasn't she killing him? She shouldn't be wasting time asking him stupid questions, like where he'd been on his ruddy summer vacation. But the look in her eyes bore no contest, so instead of asking his stupid question (in his opinion, the one that would make her kill him faster), he swallowed hard and bit his bottom lip. "Africa," he murmured.

He'd let out a startled, injured-puppy-like yelp and had his hands to his nose before he'd even realized what had happened. Then the searing pain began to spread, and he looked up at the Slayer, who's eyes were wide and horrified and profusely apologetic.

"Ohmigod, I'm sorry! I am so, SO sorry, Spike, I totally didn't mean to do that, it was reflex!" she gasped, grasping at the repentant straws. She reached up and gingerly attempted to pull his hand away from his nose, flinching when she saw the bright, red rawness glaring back at her. "Ohhhhh, bad..." she whimpered. "I am SO sorry..."

Spike whined a little bit, touching the tip of his nose tentatively, before trying to scrub off the blood he now felt pouring from his nostrils. Buffy had always gone for the nose. Good to see that that hadn't changed much. He shot her a little glare before licking off the blood that had dribbled onto his palm.

Buffy bit her lower lip, frowning slightly at the less-than-pleasant 'welcome-back' she'd just given him. Damn. Old Slayer habits really did die hard. God, what the hell was wrong with her? She was going to have to learn to control that damn temper of hers. After a bit of silence between them, she smiled weakly and said, "So... Africa, huh?"

He gave a soft grunt and a nod as an answer. Refused to look at her.

"That's where Dawn got her necklace, then? From you?"

Another nod.

Buffy chuckled a little, hoping to entice the same gentle rumble she'd always enjoyed hearing from him. "Good. For a second I thought she'd gone Teen Klepto again."

She waited for a response.

And abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Not even a fucking eyeblink.

"Spike?"

His body shifted and a slight tilt of his head in her direction as acknowledgement.

"Talk? Please?"

Hesitant head shake. Ooh! That had been an Almost Nod. She was wearing him down.

She got to her knees in front of him, tentatively placing her tiny hands over his large ones, not caring in the slightest that they were covered with his blood. Peering up into his emotionally stoic face (and it was so difficult saying Spike was stoic when he had been anything but in the past), she gave the hands a gentle, soothing squeeze. "Spike? For me? Please? I need to know what happened to you."

Another hesitant head shake.

She continued. "And if not for me... then for Dawn? She loves you... I think she has a right to know everything that happened."

One hand left his and reached up to cup his chin, lifting his head until his beautiful cerulean eyes were level with hers. "Don't you?" she whispered.

Nothing. Then...

Slowly... Ever so slowly... He nodded.

Buffy smiled.
 
 

 

To say that Dawn was freaking out was a severe understatement.

She sat fidgeting on the stone sarcophagus, having yet to spot hide and hair from either Buffy or Spike. Preferably from both of them. Buffy had kicked her out of the lower level over an hour ago, and Dawn hadn't heard a single thing since that yelp that had more than likely come from Spike. He was the only vampire she knew that could reach that decibel of Shocked Puppy-ness.

What if they weren't even talking down there? What if Buffy had heard Spike out, and now they were having quiet Snuggle Time without the teenager interrupting them? (Dawn knew for certain that they couldn't be having sex -- she had the feeling that she would've been scared out of the crypt by the sounds if they were). As helpful as it was to believe that they had made up, Dawn had to face Reality.

Stupid, evil, damning Reality.

Reality forced her thoughts to turn to dark and foreboding. What if Buffy had only told Dawn to go upstairs in order to keep her from seeing the sinister beating that Spike was receiving? Worser still, what if Buffy had foregone the beating and had just killed Spike? What if she was just sitting down there, trying to make Dawn think they were talking, and when Buffy came back upstairs, she'd say that Spike had decided it was "best to leave" so as to throw Dawn off of what had really happened?!

Oh, god, upgrade freaking out to severely horrified.

She was just starting to stand up in an attempt to head over to the hole in the ground in a frantic desperation to see if Spike was alright, when she heard both their voices at the bottom of the ladder and stopped.

"It's... hard. I... I can barely sleep without one of a million of them coming to haunt me." A soft sigh. "I mean... serves me right. But still... I-It's hard."

"I know. But I think that by telling me, you've lifted a lot of weight off your shoulders. And it'll get easier." Long pause. "It has to."

A long silence punctuated by a loud sigh. "I hope so."

Dawn shifted. These silences were starting to get annoying. She heard one of them turn, and decided it had to be Buffy. She may have been the Slayer, but Buffy had the grace of a mountain goat.

Sure enough. "I'd better get going. Dawn's been up there for a long time now... knowing her, she's having conniption fits or thinks we've fallen into a bottomless pit."

Really weak attempt at a laugh on both parts, before an abrupt, nerve-grating awkward Silence.

"Right," Dawn (inwardly getting increasingly annoyed at how well Buffy and Spike knew her) heard Spike say, his voice tight as if he were trying to hold off tears. "Up you go, then. Bit'll be frantic. Can't have that, can we?"

"No... no, definitely not."

A lengthy pause -- worse than the Silence, since the Pauses meant that there were things they really wanted to say to each other -- and Buffy turned to start up the ladder.

She was halfway up when Spike cleared his throat, thereby breaking the Pause. "Buffy?" he asked softly, tentatively.

"Yes, Spike?" No irritation in the tone; gentle concern and curiosity laced it instead.

Slight hesitation. Then, embarrassed, shyly, hopefully, he muttered, "I missed you."

The response was almost instantaneous. Dawn heard Buffy's sharp, relieved inhalation of air, and a sharp crack as Buffy's hand busted another ladder rung. When she spoke, Dawn could hear the smile in her voice: 'I missed you, too, Spike."

Dawn's cheeks nearly cracked; her smile had nearly taken over her whole face. She was nothing but a Dawn-Smile. The single disbelieving, but increasingly happy voice inside of her was squealing over and over again, < Buffy forgave Spike! > with a miniature jig in accompaniment.

They both moved up the stairs, Spike at a respectful distance from her, and he stood with his head down as Buffy gathered anything she might have brought with her. Dawn folded her arms and glared at them. "Well? What in the hell took so long?"

Simultaneously, both looked up at her and said, in unison, "Dawn, watch your mouth."

Dawn blinked. "Whoa. That was creepy."

The side of Spike's lips curved into a half-smile, and he moved toward her. "I meant it, Bit. You're sixteen. Don't need to start swearing now."

Dawn grinned at him hopefully. "But if some big Evil is coming after me and I have to fight it?"

Buffy stared at her, eyebrow raised. "We'll see."

Dawn's arms folded, and Sullen Teenage Glare was back, this time in the form of #100 (You Never Let Me Do Anything Fun!). Buffy rolled her eyes and pointed at her. "Don't you give me that look, Dawn. I invented that Look. Wipe it off your face."

Dawn straightened and gave Buffy a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Forgot."

Buffy laughed and wrapped her arm around her sister's shoulders. "Come on. Giles is probably wide awake and spazzing. I told him I'd be right back, and that was an hour ago."

Spike followed slowly as Dawn and Buffy made their way to the door. "Got your gifts?" Spike asked softly, cocking his head at Dawn. The teenager nodded, tapping the pocket of her jacket. Spike smiled and reached out to gently tug on a strand of her hair. "Good girl. Have a good night then. Listen to Buffy. Get to school on time. All that other prancy, poofy stuff."

Dawn moved toward him, wrapping her arms tightly about his waist. "I will. And if it's all right with Buffy, will you come visit us sometime? Please?"

Spike peered over Dawn's head at her sister, who had suddenly decided that the floor was looking rather lovely in its cigarette dusti-ness. He sighed inwardly. "We'll see, luv." He placed a kiss on her forehead, gave her another gentle squeeze, then patted her back. "Off you go."

Dawn smiled and waved at him. "G'night, Spike. Love you," she called.

Spike watched with a gentle smile as they walked away. It widened just a fraction of an inch when he saw Buffy turn slightly and peer back at him, before spinning back around and heading after Dawn. "Love you, too, Bit," he murmured, his hand clutching the wall next to his door. "Love you both."

He shut the door.
 
 

 

Buffy made the worst attempt in humanity to conceal a yawn. Unfortunately for her, Giles didn't get the hint. In fact, Giles didn't even notice. Giles was swimming in his own little Giles-World at the moment, completely lost in thought.

And pacing. Did she mention the pacing? It's Giles, new from Mattel! Comes with five different functions: worrying, nose-rubbing, pacing, lecturing and thinking, all sure to bore the pants off of you! See package for details.

He was starting to make her dizzy. And she was really starting to hate herself for not waiting to mention Spike to Giles the next morning, after she'd gotten some well-deserved shut-eye (after all the emotional crap she'd been through tonight). To Giles, rest, sleep, and dead-on-your-feet tired did not seem to be understandable concepts. At least they didn't when formerly-evil-but-turning-good-guy-without-a-soul ex-boyfriends came back to town sans pain-chip and with their original soul fully intact and acquired willingly in tow.

Truly, Spike was a first in Vampire history, and Giles wasn't about to waste any time delving into research.

"He went after his soul willingly? Knowing what it would do to him, knowing what he would be in store for when he received it? And he still accepted it back?"

Buffy yawned again. Giles had asked this question about five times, all in the same, disbelieving tone. "Well, he didn't exactly flat out ask for it. He wanted the chip out. But I think, deep down inside, he wanted the soul, otherwise the Wish-Giver guy wouldn't have given it to him. He said that he asked him to, quote unquote, 'make him what he was, so he could...'" She trailed off slightly, then looked down at her feet and finished. "So he could give me what I deserved."

Giles' eyebrows creased together. "And the demon returned him his soul... Most interesting."

Buffy yawned for the third time. "Real interesting. Can I go to sleep now? Please?"

Her former Watcher looked at her, startled. "What? Oh, yes. Of course, dear. Go get some rest."

Buffy smiled drowsily. "Thanks, Giles. G'night."

"Goodnight, Buffy."

As soon as she was upstairs, alone in her mother's old room, as soon as she reached her bed, Buffy sank down heavily and buried her face in her hands.

A soul. He'd gotten his soul back for her. In spite of all she'd done to him, in spite of how she'd treated him, in spite of everything she'd ever said to him, he'd gone to get his soul back for her. And at a terrible price. He'd nearly been destroyed by the tasks he'd been required to pass.

And still. He'd done it all for her. To feel like he was worthy of her.

Any other woman on earth would have seen his devotion before he'd even stepped a foot past the city lines. It had taken Buffy four months without him, cold hard Reality, and a couple of verbal punches to the face to realize that she even missed him. Four months to realize that she loved him.

As Angelus, Angel never would have gone to get his soul back of his own free will. Angelus thrived on the miserable lives he could induce without a conscience following him around, wracking him with guilt every step of the way. And Spike had loved her enough without his soul to seek it out for her anyway. Because he thought it was what she deserved.

Well she didn't. She didn't deserve a damn thing from him. After everything she'd done to him, she didn't deserve him. She, the Slayer, the icon for all things good, and pure, and right, was worse than a soulless vampire. A soulless vampire that had felt love, pain, guilt, remorse, though by standards, he shouldn't have.

Spike had always been the exception. And as the exception, Spike was better than her. And being better than her, he shouldn't even desire her. He should hate her for everything she'd said and done.

And he didn't. In fact, by the doe eyes he'd kept giving her this evening, it was all too clear that he was still as taken and infatuated with her as he ever was. Well, only more so now.

When in the hell was she going to learn to listen to her gut instincts, instead of listening to everyone else? Listening to everyone else had ruined her, and had forced her to destroy any semblance of a normal relationship she could have had with Spike, simply because he didn't fit the normal standards that her friends held. And she had been so scared to take him in, and accept him, and show everyone that yes, she was with the vampire of her own free will, the vampire that had changed himself in spite of what everyone else had done to discourage him, because they loved each other, and because she trusted him. She'd rejected him, simply because she was scared of their disapproval. Their disapproval.

Giles, her father figure: in his youth, he'd conjured up the dark spirit Eyghon, immersed himself in Black Magick, and had virtually been Spike's counterpart. When she'd turned 18, he had betrayed her trust and had left her without her strength to do battle with an insane vampire during her Cruciamentum. And he'd had the gall to chastise her for betraying him when she'd hid Angel after his return from Hell.

Xander, her big brother figure: he'd tried to fuck her under the influence of that Hyena spirit during her first year in Sunnydale. He had conjured a spell that had made all the women in Sunnydale desperate for him, which caused them to be deadly if rejected. And just last year, he'd conjured up that singing demon, Sweet. Buffy would have danced to her death had it not been for Spike.

And Willow. Oh, god, Willow. She had been so innocent when she had been thrust into the Slayer's world. And her magick lessons had just been a pastime, something that she'd been eager to study, as a tribute after Jenny Calendar's death. And that had seemed innocent until she'd immersed herself into the Black Arts; thrown herself in so deep that she'd literally depended on magick to help her through everyday life. And when it had gotten so bad, and her emotions had run rampant, she'd nearly become the Uber Evil; she'd killed a man, attempted to kill her friends, and had tried to destroy the world.

Somehow, Buffy didn't think that any of them had the right to disapprove of her choices anymore. She'd sacrificed enough of her life for the Greater Good and this stupid Calling. They could sit and spin if they wigged at the idea of her with Spike.

Er... not that she was going to be with him anytime in the immediate future or anything. Yeah.

But still... he had tried so hard to be good, to be good for her, and she had turned him down at every possible cross, tried to discourage him in every possible way. Really, it was no wonder that he'd finally had enough. If it had been anyone else, they'd be sitting in a mental hospital, and Buffy would be visiting them on weekends.

She groaned softly, feeling tears begin to trickle down her cheeks, which was just irritating as hell -- since when had she become so damn moody? She wasn't even like this when she had PMS! -- and she impatiently wiped her hands over her face. Seeing Spike again, when she thought she'd lost him forever, should not merit an all-night sobbing session.

Well, maybe it did; if you weren't the Slayer, anyway.

Still, it wasn't like he's just come back from the dead (er, the permanent kind). She'd known he was alive and out there somewhere... wanting nothing to do with her...

Oh, fantastic... she was throwing herself a pity-party now. Maybe she should just go to sleep and forget all the incredibly mind-boggling events from tonight, and the even more mind-boggling things Spike had told her about during his Quest for a Soul. It was just too much for her poor mind to process. Anyway, that was why Giles was here.

Also, the grossest image of Spike being attacked by flesh-eating scarabs kept popping into her mind. That warranted an exceptionally big 'eugh,' and nightmares for a week.

< Gotta admit, though, > she thought, yawning as she stretched out on the bed, rolling onto her back. < 'm definitely proud of him... god, the things he does for me... >

She settled comfortably against her pillow and closed her eyes.
 
 

 

And that had officially been the world record for shortest nap taken by a 21-year-old Slayer that had to juggle Mom-and-Save-The-World duties.

Honestly, if it wasn't for the fact that she was so ecstatic to have him back (you know; besides the part where she was in love with him), she would've killed him.

"Spike, it's --" she looked at her alarm clock, and groaned -- "3:15 in the morning. I have a job I have to be ready for in four more hours." Buffy sat up and glared at him. "What the hell do you want?"

He smiled apologetically and rocked back on his heels a little, from his perch outside the window. "Sorry. Can I, uh... come in?"

Buffy yawned, rubbing her eyes. "Your invitation was never revoked," she told him sleepily. "You have a free rein."

She tried hard to feel like she hadn't swallowed the sun when she saw his awed, delighted face.

"Well, uh... I have the feeling you might kill me more violently if I ask questions, so 'm just gonna come in," he said sheepishly, climbing through the window. Buffy raised her eyebrows and sat up a little more.

"Damn straight," she grumbled. Spike merely grinned, plopping onto her bedside table. Buffy shook her head. "You're insane, you know that?"

"Ta. Slightly aware of it."

Buffy groaned as she stretched, then sighed. "Yeah, anyway. What's up?"

Spike chewed on his lower lip quietly, fiddling with the end of his shirt, before answering her. "It's just... you seemed a little too calm tonight... after all I told you. Just... wanted to know if you were all right. You know. From one, er... friend... to another."

She pretended not to notice the half-annoyed, half-depressed Look that crossed his face at those words. Buffy took a deep breath. "Well... you have to admit. What happened to you kind of... blew me away, ya know? It's kind of... difficult knowledge to swallow whole. So... I think it's fair for me to be a little shocked. Right?"

Spike nodded, a little eagerly. "Oh, sure, yeah, I mean... I knew that. 'S just... Well, maybe I was more off my nut than I thought, but... you looked like you were going ta cry. Was I?" He looked at her, penetrating blue eyes quickly working their magick. "Imagining things, I mean?"

Buffy drew her legs to her chest, looking up at him. She hesitated a moment, then shook her head. "No... you weren't. I... I was... I did cry." She threw him a weak grin. "I've just been Emotion Girl all over the place lately, huh?"

Spike smiled back gently, reaching out tentatively to touch her cheek. "It does you good. You look healthier... relaxed... happier an' the like." He looked down. "Not like when you were with me."

Buffy's heart dropped into her stomach at the despondent look on his face. Before she could answer, he looked up again and said, "I dunno if I have the right to ask or not, but... Why?" At Buffy's questioning look, he elaborated. "Why me? I mean... y-you knew I loved you. You knew... how I felt when I saw you back. You knew that I'd do anything for you, and that, if I could have, I'd've killed ta keep you happy. So... why d'you do it? Use me?" He looked down again. "I just... I wanted to know. 'S all."

Buffy closed her eyes and reached up to clasp the hand that remained on her cheek. "Spike... I am so sorry. I just... I was beyond messed up. And... I thought I'd done something terrible to be brought back here, to this... Hell. I felt like... someone wanted me to suffer. To stay hate-filled and angry, and that just goes to show how screwed up I was, because no matter how you felt about me, I still took out all my hatred and anger on you." Her other hand moved to touch his cheek, caressing it gently up and down. "I'm just so, so sorry, Spike. You didn't deserve that. Any of it. Not a single thing that I did, or a single word I said." She snorted mirthlessly. "I'm just the shining example of all that's right in the world, huh? I treated the guy that loved me like a piece of trash, like I had the fucking right to do it." She shook her head and clasped her hands in her lap. "God, I need help."

His soft, cool lips were on hers, leaving the gentle whisper of a kiss against her mouth before she'd even realized he'd moved. "I could," he whispered when he pulled back.

Buffy felt a delicious shiver run down her spine before she raised her eyes to his. "Could what?" she asked softly.

Spike's hand raised and ran down her arm. "Help you." His lips parted and traced the pulsepoint on her neck, springing a chilling, titillating sensation throughout her body. "That guy you treated like trash... he came back... he still loves you, now more than ever... he's most definitely a changed man. And he'd like to show you how changed he is."

Buffy sighed, raising her arms and wrapping them around his body, tilting her head up accordingly when his lips came back to hers. "But... what about the soul?" she whispered. "Won't it..."

Spike pulled back, resting his forehead against hers and staring her dead in the eyes. "Luv, the soul is more than permanent. If, however, you feel the need to test it out..." Taking one of her hands, he moved it down to the hem of his shirt, sliding it below the material. Instincts took over, and Buffy's other hand joined the first, pushing the T-shirt up and over Spike's head. It took less than a second for her to become reacquainted with the delicious firmness of his muscles, and the sharp, lean build of his body -- though, truth be told, she had never really forgotten because his body haunted her memories anyway.

His lips came down on hers once again, and in the barest blink of an eye, he had managed to divest her of her pajamas. Pausing for a moment, he studied the top and bottoms, then smiled at the design. "I like the blue monkeys," he murmured, pressing his mouth to the swell of her breast.

Buffy blushed. "Dawn bought them for me. I don't know what she was thinking, since she is a -- ah... ohhh, god..." Her eyes fell closed and her head lolled back on the pillow. His lips nipped and sucked every inch of her breast, teasing her nipple relentlessly. Buffy whimpered softly, reaching up and tugging gently on his hair. "No foreplay," she whispered. "I've missed you so much, Spike... I need you, all of you. Now."

Apparently, that had been just what Spike had wanted to hear. In under a second, he's had his jeans undone and pulled down his legs, and her panties had been whipped off and thrown across the room. "You've got me, Buffy."

Her head thrown back, her muscles spasming against his massive intrusion, she gave a choked sigh, holding him close to her. Never once did it cross her mind that it was the middle of the night, that Giles was probably still awake downstairs, that her sister and Willow were sound asleep in the other rooms... All that mattered was the beautiful man, above her, inside her, surrounding her. All that mattered was that he was back, and she was where she belonged again.

As gently as possible, he began to rock, taking care to kiss every surface inch of her body that wasn't covered by the rest of him as his hips pistoned into her depths. This had been in his future from the moment he'd met her, from the second he'd laid his eyes on her beautiful body. Being together was the natural conclusion of their relationship.

Slowly, he rocked faster. Below him, the Slayer's voice came out in soft, breathless gasps, kittenish mewls of pleasure, needy moans of desperation. She had never sounded more lovely to him. He acquiesced when her small hand grasped the back of his head, drawing his face down to hers. "Spike," she whispered as their lips met. Tongue clashed with tongue, dueling, caressing, mating. It was no wonder that they'd spent the better part of the last five years annoying the hell out of each other. Their passion had spurred them on.

Now if only they'd caught on to it sooner. If only Buffy hadn't been so adamant in what everyone else had told her.

Closer; she was almost there. During their few months together, Spike had discovered the very touches that would propel her further into a climax, and he'd used them to his full advantage. Now, it seemed, he barely had to touch her and she was at the precipice.

Harder. Sweat poured down her skin, coating both their bodies. The bed was moving audibly now, the headboard just barely thumping against the wall. Thank God Buffy's room wasn't right next to Dawn's anymore. Because that would just... suck.

Faster. She was about to fall, and her hands, moving restlessly around Spike's body, grabbed a good handful of his supremely nice ass, pushing him farther into her. Spike grunted, pushing harder, ignoring the sounds the headboard was making, concentrating solely on making this woman explode with pleasure. "God, Buffy," he murmured, lips exploring her neck, "I love you so much."

She convulsed. Her body tightened, and her muscles clenched around him. She renewed her desperate hold on him, her legs wrapping around his waist and hooking at the small of his back. Her back arched and her hips thrust forward, frantically attempting to suck him into her, to lodge him inside her and ensure that he would never leave again. Her nails dug into his skin, ripping, tearing the magnificent expanse of alabaster, and she gave a garbled cry as her insides began to melt.

Spike growled at the feeling of the warmth flowing around him, then gasped in surprise when Buffy's hands grasped his head, lowering his face to her neck. He trembled at the unmistakable invitation before shifting into game face and...
 
 

Buffy shot up, gasping, eyes wide and head thrown back as her legs tremored in the final shock of her orgasm. She moaned softly and fell back again, her eyes blinking blearily at the ceiling above her as her thoughts raced to the ruined -- She looked down at herself.

Pajamas. Ruined pajamas. She was wearing them. Why was she still wearing them? And where the hell was -- Oh. Oh no. That wasn't fair. That was NOT even right! < Oh, god, this isn't happening > she mentally groaned.

She looked down at herself again.

PJ's officially ruined for the night. Mother fucking hell.

Scowling, she stripped off her clothes, then violently threw them into the laundry basket before grabbing a pair of boxers and a long red T-shirt. Getting back into the bed, she folded her arms crossly over her chest and scowled. "I am never going back to sleep again," she muttered.

She was asleep the second her head hit the pillow.
 
 

 

Outside, Spike gazed up at the window of Buffy's bedroom, slightly slack-jawed. She'd been dreaming about him. And not just any regular dream. She'd been dreaming about shagging him into the ground. Even if she hadn't been voicing herself, Spike would have been able to smell her arousal, and God knew that the beast below his belt would have let him know all too gladly.

But that didn't deter from the main fact.

Buffy was dreaming about him. Buffy still wanted him. In every possible way.

A slow smile curled his lips and he pushed off from the tree, digging into his jeans and pulling out a cigarette and his beloved Zippo. Lighting up, he glanced up at the window again, ears perked to hear her soft snores. Then, turning to leave, his hand curved down to adjust himself; a cocky grin, reminiscent of his old self Pre-Soul, stretched across his face.

Well. He was set for the rest of the night.
 
 
 

TBC...

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