Chapter One: The Encroaching Darkness





Through some unknown portal, in some mysterious dimension, Buffy stood before three ancient shamans, chained to the rock face of a cold dim cave.





“What is this?” she inquired, as she came to and discovered her imprisonment.





In their primordial dialect, each one of the mystics responded. “We are at the beginning,” one said stoically.





“The source of your strength. The well of the slayer’s power,” said another.





“This is why we have brought you here,” finished the third.





“I thought I brought me here,” Buffy replied, confusion etched plainly on her face, which quickly morphed into annoyance. “Look…listen, you guys. I’m already the Slayer; bursting with power. I really don’t need anymore.”





“The first Slayer did not talk so much,” one shaman commented as Buffy struggled with the chains. Suddenly the three men began to stomp their staffs against the ground, creating an ominous pounding that resembled the beating of war drums. The beat intensified, sustained by two men, while a third approached the Slayer with a closed wooden box. Placing it on the ground before her, he slowly slid off the lid. “Here lies your truest strength,” he said, stepping away from the open vessel.





“The energy of the demon. Its spirit.”





“Its heart.”





Shocked, Buffy stared at the box. “This is how you…?”





“Created the Slayer? Yes,” one mystic answered her unfinished question.





Slowly, a black mist rose from the box, free from its confinements, remaining for the moment suspended above its former prison. Scared, Buffy frantically tried to follow its erratic movements, unsure of what was to happen, what the shamans intended to do with this demon spirit.





The drums continued to beat and the essence continued to dance in the air above her. “It must become one with you.”





“No!” Buffy refused, still struggling with her bindings.





“This will make you ready for the fight,” one shaman declared, in the hopes that she would cooperate.





“By making me less human?” she retorted, obviously unhappy about the catch to this offering of power.





“This is how it was then. How it must be now.”





“This is all there is,” one of the men warned. In their minds, there was no alternative to defeating the First.





And with that, the mist descended upon Buffy, assaulting every inch of her, consuming her entirely. Screaming, she tried to push it away; refusing to accept the supposed gift she was being offered. Pulling at the chains, the slayer glared at the men watching her. “Make this stop.”





“This is what you came for,” one said, again without any hint of emotion.





“No, this isn’t the way!” she declared angrily.





“Do not fight this.”





The blackness was upon her again, invading her very being. Buffy couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe. It was like walking into the abyss, like drowning in dark waters where your lungs are about to burst but all you can think about in your last seconds is that you’ve gone blind. She was becoming petrified at the idea that this thing would take her over from the inside.





“No! Stop! Please, stop! I don’t want this! This isn’t the way!” Buffy screamed, struggling against the chains as she tried to flee from the demonic mist. But it was relentless and no amount of refusing and denial could stop it from consuming her. She would become one with it.





As the last bit of the essence entered her, Buffy collapsed face down on the ground. The inside of the cave began to spin, the emotionless faces of the men who did this to her started to blur into one another. But their eyes remained transfixed upon the slayer and she felt as though their gazes burned right through to her very core. Nausea took hold of her. Grabbing her side she sprawled out on the ground, clinging to it as everything around her spiraled out of control. Buffy shut her eyes and surrendered to the power.














********








The blinding light emitted by the portal filled the living room, touching everything and everyone within it. Shaking in Xander’s arms, Willow tried to calm herself down; too frightened by her actions to consider the ramifications of using Anya and, especially Kennedy as human energy boosters. Hauling the enormous, yet dead demon, Spike flung it into the awaiting portal anticipating the exchange and Buffy’s return. Before the portal closed, they found Buffy face down on the living room floor, unconscious.





“Buffy!” Dawn yelled, afraid that her sister was dead. Kneeling beside her and realizing she was alive, she turned to the group. “She’s alive, but she’s out cold.”





“We better get her upstairs,” Xander said. “I think we should all call it a night.”





Without instruction or hesitation, Spike knelt down and scooped the unresponsive Buffy in his arms and made his way upstairs, with Dawn trailing quietly behind him. Xander opted to stay downstairs with Anya when Willow had finally calmed down. The potential slayer and witch soon followed up the stairs.





“Hey,” Willow called out once they reached the upstairs hallway. “You okay? You’ve been kinda quite since…”





“You sucked the life out of me?” Kennedy asked, finishing Willow’s question.





“Yeah. Since then,” she solemnly confirmed. “Look, it’s important that you know what I am. What I’m like when I’m like that.”





“I thought it would be, I don’t know, cool somehow. It just hurt,” Kennedy replied, looking as though she was still in pain.





“Yeah, I’m really sorry. Just, you were the most powerful person nearby and well…that’s how it works. That’s how I work,” Willow stated sadly.





“I got that. You told me… I’ll see you in the morning,” Kennedy responded, turning into her room and closing the door on her girlfriend.





Needing a distraction, Willow headed to Buffy’s room where no doubt Spike and Dawn were. She found them both there, as she had expected. The Slayer had been dressed in her pajamas and was tucked into bed, just as unconscious as she had been when she had returned.





“Still out?” Willow asked, genuinely concerned.





Dawn looked up at the witch and nodded, “She hasn’t even made a single sound. I just hope she wakes up soon,” Dawn choked, her lip quivering, still a little shook up from seeing her sister so powerless.





“She will, Nibblet,” Spike said in an effort to comfort her while his eyes never left Buffy’s sleeping form. Though she was never out of his sight, Spike did not sit by her as Dawn did, but kept his vigil in one of the room’s corners. Unfortunately, by keeping his eyes on the Slayer he never noticed Dawn’s big doe eyes gleaming with tears.





“You called me Nibblet,” she stated, matter-of-factly.





Pulled out of his concentrated observance of Buffy, he glanced over to Dawn, which upon setting his eyes on her face, almost made his heart beat again. Her response to his long unused nickname for her and the sentiment behind it slowly sunk in. “Yeah, guess I did.”





Staying seated in the chair next to Buffy’s bed, Dawn didn’t move, but every emotion crossed her face. She suddenly became very aware that Spike and Willow were watching her, making her turn her gaze down to the floor as a tiny smile spread over her lips. “I guess you really are back. God, I didn’t think I’d miss your annoying nick names so much,” Dawn said, with a slight touch of melancholy.





Thrown by her sudden and unexpected affirmation, a tense Spike gradually relaxed when she lifted her head again and smiled at him.





Before he could respond, Dawn started to speak. “I get that you want us to see you the way we once did; Big Bad attitude and all. But if… if you want me to see you the way I once did, you gotta promise me something. You gotta not do anything to make me hate you again. Cuz, it really sucks not being able to talk to you and last year was just horrible and I don’t know if I can go through that again,” Dawn slightly rambled, staring at the floor. “So, don’t screw it up. I don’t want to hate you anymore,” she finished, lifting her eyes up to meet his, wishing to see how he responded.





Gazing down into her bright blue eyes, Spike melted and guilt ripped his insides into a million shreds. “I promise. Never again, Bit,” he croaked, not wanting to go all weepy in front of the girls. After all, he had a newly restored Big Bad persona to maintain.





After a few seconds, Dawn nodded, assured by his sincerity before turning her attention back to her sister. Spike looked at Willow, who smiled at him with a reassuring look of acceptance. Taking in an unnecessary breathe in hopes of easing his nerves, he slowly inched closer to the Slayer’s bed, but stopped dead in his tracks when she began to violently thrash.





“Buffy?!” Dawn called out to her sister.





She didn’t answer, her entire body convulsed and arched off the bed. It was like watching an exorcism, but for all they knew, she wasn’t possessed. Soundlessly she continued to thrash around and those that loved her stood there, unsure of what to do. It was eerie. Her face was set in a painful grimace, but she didn’t even make a whimper, as though it was too agonizing to scream. All that could be heard was the loud squeak of mattress springs giving in to the force of Buffy’s spasms. It ended as quickly as it started with the deafening sound of silence filing the room once again. Wide-open eyes stricken with terror stared up at the group before her. “Buffy, luv?” Spike peered down, scared of what the portal might have done to her.





Willow made her way towards her friend and knelt by her bed. Taking her trembling hand, she began to speak to her. “Buffy, you’re safe and home. Dawn and Spike and I, we’re here. You’re safe.”





Her chest had been heaving the moment since she had awakened and slowly it stilled into a steady rhythm of breaths. Emotion returning to her eyes, she appeared to recognize those around her. “What happened?” she asked.





Spike, Dawn and Willow all exchanged worried glances. “We were hoping you could tell us,” Dawn said, giving her sister an encouraging smile, though the knot in her stomach was still churning. Buffy made herself sit up, in obvious pain; she accepted Willow’s assistance in propping her up with pillows. Letting out a sigh that was a mixture of exhaustion and relief, she stared up at those around her.





“I was there, with those shadow men, the ones who created the first Slayer.”





“Did they tell you how to defeat the First?” Willow inquired, praying the dangerous and potentially relationship-damaging use of her magic had not been in vain.





Buffy looked at the three, eyes once again glazed over. “Before I passed out, I think they sent me a vision or something. I saw what the First is hiding beneath that seal.” She paused, uncertain of how to tell them.





“What Buffy? What did you see?” Willow prodded.





“I saw that we might not win this,” Buffy answered, tears streaming down her face. “An army of hell doesn’t even begin to describe.”





Her words had left them all stunned. If Buffy believed she couldn’t defeat it, that this was going to be the end, then what did that leave them? Spike was the first to break the silence. “Best you get to sleep, luv.” It was all he said. It was all that he could say. Curling into her comforter Buffy watched as they left the room, only allowing sleep to take over when she finally felt too tired to be petrified.





“This isn’t good,” Willow stated as she closed the door behind her.





“No kiddin’, Red. Never seen her so distraught. Not even with Glory,” Spike said, concern marring his brow.





“Maybe, she’s just really tired,” Dawn suggested, knowing it wasn’t the case.





“Maybe,” Spike mumbled. He couldn’t get over the feeling that Buffy had been keeping something from them, that she was hiding what was actually scaring her. Understandably, an army of Hell was frightening, but it didn’t explain the fact that she sounded like she was ready to give up. He didn’t say anything to Dawn or Willow. He knew they wouldn’t believe him, or wouldn’t want to, anyway.





Wishing them goodnight, Spike headed to the basement to spend the night alone with the gnawing suspicion that the woman he loved was lying to them, and that it was going to be the ruin of them all.


 

Chapter 2: Admissions





Buffy’s sleep had been dreamless and when she had awoken, it was much into the late morning, the bright California sun creeping into her room through the barely closed blinds. She felt as though she had been beaten with the Troll Hammer about seventy times and any movement she made set her stiff muscles ablaze. Buffy had to get to the bathroom; a shower would help. Actually, what would help would be that Slayer healing kicking in, but a shower wouldn’t hurt. She hoped.



The slayer slowly dragged herself out of bed, placing both feet on the floor and steadily getting up. She had never been this weak. Was it the demon mist? Why didn’t she feel any different? Correction; why didn’t she feel any different inside? She had some demon spirit or demon heart or whatever the hell it was, in her. Shouldn’t she be a little demonic? The contemplating gave Buffy a headache so she just focused on getting to a shower.



Emerging from her room, Buffy entered an empty upstairs hallway. No girls, which meant a free bathroom. With some perseverance, she managed to get undressed and get under the hot spray of the water, allowing its therapeutic warmth soothe her aching body. Only now did Buffy allow herself to continue her musing. Grabbing the bottle of shampoo, she squeezed a dollop onto her hands and massaged it into her scalp. If the demon spirit was what made the first Slayer, then it had to be what was passed down from one slayer to another. This meant that every slayer before her had been part demon, and that since the moment she had been called, Buffy was too.



Finished with the scrubbing, she rinsed her blond head. The essence that had taken over her should only then magnify her strength, right? Then why didn’t she feel any different? Buffy didn’t feel stronger or like she had this great power surging through her. All Buffy felt was just violated. Completely violated. She had begged them to stop and they still did that to her. She had felt like this once before and she never wanted to again, but here she was, in her bathroom, wondering what the hell they had actually done to her. The slayer realized as she looked around that she had somehow ended up sitting in the middle of the bathtub with her arms wrapped around her. Buffy was crying, sobbing and she hadn’t even noticed. ‘What’s wrong with me?’





********



Sipping his afternoon mug of microwaved pig’s blood, Spike lounged on his basement cot, content with the solace his new abode offered. It let him think without having twenty something teenage girls bugging him every other bleedin’ second. It was just too hectic for him, and since Buffy was resting, there wouldn’t be any slayerette training so he could keep to himself and enjoy the partial silence of…a washer and dryer?



“Must you do that now?” Spike asked, clearly annoyed.



“Well, yeah,” Dawn replied. “Clean clothes, up there on the Important Things To Do list. Bad enough we got a house full of girls; don’t need them all wearing sweaty clothes. Funky smells not so fun.” Stuffing the machine, she closed the lid and made her way to the vampire. Smiling, she scooted over next to him, her back flat against the wall.



“What do you think you’re doing?” Spike asked.



“What’s it look like? I’m sitting here,” she replied, grinning.



“I can see that. But why?”



“Cuz, I feel like it. Plus, Andrew’s starting to videotape everyone and it’s kinda creepy.”



Eyeing her, he shrugged. “Whatever. Just don’t start up with the yammering. Came down here for some peace and quiet.”



“Peace and quiet? What reality are you living in? You know there’s no such thing,” Dawn stated. Taping her fingers on her leg she searched for a conversation starter. “So, other than being antisocial, what d’you plan on doing today?” she asked, cheerily.



“Dunno. Smoke, sit, might go out and patrol when it gets dark,” he answered, unenthusiastically.



“Sounds boring.”



“Never said it was gonna be fun.”



Dawn shifted to Spike, studying his apathetic demeanor. Turning to look out at the empty space in front of her, she asked, “Why aren’t you waiting for Buffy to wake up?”



“Who says I’m not,” he replied, a little surprised at the shift in discussion.



“I do. You’re not pacing, or making snarky impatient remarks, or smoking fifty cigarettes one right after the other. You’re just here, wallowing.”



“I’m not wallowing!” he indignantly stated.



“Oh, please. If it’s not wallowing then it’s brooding. Either way, it’s not you,” she said, looking back at him.



“Damn right it’s not. I do not wallow and I sure as hell don’t brood.”



“Well, then tell me what you’re doing sitting here all unSpike like?”



“Just thinking, is all,” he admitted.



“About what?” she asked, her tone conveying utmost seriousness.



“Lil’ nosy today, aren’t we?” he joked without intending to.



“Hey, that’s what little sisters are for, right?” She said it so casually that Spike might have almost missed it. Almost. Did she think of him as her brother? Had she always felt that way, even the past year when things had gone so horribly wrong? Did she love him like she would a brother? He didn’t deserve her love, especially after how he had decimated their friendship. The total black and white shift in their relationship made him wonder if she had forgiven him. And if his Nibblet could forgive him, then maybe there was hope for him yet. His hand started to tremble and he tried to desperately keep it cool. He couldn’t loose face, even if it was with Dawn. She continued, oblivious to his inner struggle. “So spill.”



“Buffy,” he managed to say. Clearing his throat to wave away the emotions playing with his vocal chords, he tried again. “I was thinking about Buffy.”



Giving him a ‘no, duh!’ look, Dawn asked the obvious question. “What happened last night, you mean?”



Spike nodded. Deciding to take the first step, he told her. He could trust lil’ Bit. “She’s hidin’ something.”



Dawn stared at him for a good minute. He wasn’t sure if she was going to disagree, but he didn’t really care if she did. He knew he was right. But having Dawn on his side wouldn’t hurt. When she finally spoke, it wasn’t what Spike had expected. “I think you’re right. I had this feeling after she told us what happened, but it didn’t make sense. Sure, army of hell, but Buffy never gives up, or at least never admits it. Something else happened in that dimension.”



“Have to agree with you there, Bit. Didn’t say anything last night ‘cos didn’t think you an’ Red would believe me,” he admitted.



It was Dawn’s turn to shrug. “We might have but it doesn’t really matter now. We gotta find out what happened to her.”



“She isn’t gonna tell us. Not willingly anyway,” Spike commented, putting his finished cup of blood on the floor next to the cot.



“We’ll figure out a way. Maybe we should wait. She might just be a little shook up. Maybe she will come to us,” Dawn said.



“I hope you’re right,” Spike replied, unintentionally placing his hand on top of hers.



“Do you still love her?”



The question startled him. He hadn’t expected this little reunion with Dawn to be so expositional.



“Yeah, I still love her.”



His dead heart nearly burst out of his chest when he felt her warm hand curl up and give him a reassuring squeeze.





********



Buffy made her way down the steps, feeling a little better after a shower and a good cry, but it still took her a while to get downstairs without loosing her balance and falling on her ass. There were a few girls in the living room, but from what she could see, she figured they were out in the backyard training. A little relieved, she made her way to the kitchen, where she could see Willow and Xander. She stopped near the doorway, listening to what they were saying, not wishing to interrupt.



“…I’m so stupid,” she heard Willow exclaim.



“Hey. There will be none of that. You did what you had to, Will. She knows you didn’t mean to hurt her, but you had to, to bring Buffy back,” Xander consoled.



“It’s just, what if she doesn’t want to be with me anymore now that she knows what I really am? What if it all ends before it even begins?” Willow asked, choking with emotion.



“It’ll work out. Kennedy will realize she can’t be without you and learn to forgive. If you’re meant to be, she’ll realize that beneath the sometimes scary witchy exterior, is a gorgeous woman whose only human and makes mistakes,” Xander told her, never more sure of himself.



“You were always good with the cheering up,” Willow sniffled.



“It’s the thing I do. That and fixing stuff.”



Buffy could hear her two best friends laughing and wished she could be that easily comforted. It was at that moment that she wished Spike were there, with his out of nowhere presence, nonchalant attempts at comedic relief and long silent pauses. Instead, she was standing in the kitchen doorway and he was most likely asleep in the basement, both of them alone.



“Buffy, you’re up!” Willow said, pulling Buffy out of her train of thought. “You should have stayed in bed. I was just about to go up and check on you.”



“It’s okay, Will. I’m fine. Just caffeine, please,” Buffy replied, sitting between the two, accepting the cup of java Xander handed her.



“Hungry?” Xander asked.



Buffy nodded which made Xander offer her some of his buttered toast. “Thanks,” she said, nibbling on the food, still unsure if the nausea from bizarro world had completely dissipated.



“Will told me what happened, Buff. So, an army of hell, eh? Don’t worry; we can take ‘em,” he declared, smiling as only Xander could smile at the most inappropriate times.



“There were just so many. We’re basically sitting ducks ‘til the First decides to open up the seal and unleash hundreds upon hundreds of ubervamps,” she said, wishing it weren’t true.



“So we prepare and research and plan. Full out Scooby tactics,” Willow babbled, needing to lessen the burden on her best friend.



“I’ll even go on a donut run,” Xander offered.



“Promise? Jelly-filled, too?” Buffy managed to smile.



“I promise.”



Looking down at her watch, Buffy couldn’t believe it was already noon. Oh crap! Her job. “Please tell me its Saturday,” she groaned.



“Okay, it’s Saturday,” Xander replied.



“Really?”



“Yeah. And if it weren’t, Principal Wood would totally understand. Easy day off,” Xander reassured as Buffy let out the breath she’d been holding.



“Buffy are you okay? I mean, wonky portal and shadowmen encounters aside, you really freaked us out last night. You kinda went all Linda Blair,” Willow told her, concerned.



“You mean with projectile vomit and three-sixty head spins?” Buffy inquired, getting a slightly freaked.



“Uhh, no. More like uncontrollable thrashing,” Willow explained. “It was like you were having a seizure. I had no idea how to help you and before I could even suggest anything, you stopped.”



“And then I woke up, right?” Buffy asked, receiving a nod from Willow.



“Do you remember any of it, Buffy?” Xander asked.



“No. Last thing I remember was blacking out in the other dimension. That and the not so reassuring vision of the First’s army.”



“So what do we do now?” Xander asked.



“You can keep an eye on the training; I don’t want Kennedy to get carried away. And Will, I know were running low on food, could you…”



“Grocery shopping, no problem. I’ll go over the list before I head out.”



“Thanks,” Buffy said as she stood up.



“What about you Bufffster? What’s on the day’s agenda?”



“Gotta check up on Dawn. After that, I’ll join you and supervise the girls.” And with a smile, Buffy made her way out of the kitchen and into the foyer. ‘Where the hell was Dawn, anyway?’





*******





“Better get upstairs, ducks. Big sis is probably up and most likely lookin’ for you,” Spike stated, motioning for Dawn to head back upstairs.



But before Dawn could even lift her butt off the cot, she heard her sister head down the basement steps. She was happy she was awake, but as she watched Buffy descend, Dawn spotted the flinches and the knotted brow. Her sister was in obvious pain, but was too stubborn to stay in bed. It made her feel a little relieved; she was still the same old Buffy, in that respect anyway.



“Buffy, you’re awake!” Dawn called out.



“The way you all talk around here, someone would think I had some sort of sleeping disorder,” she commented sarcastically, coming to stand before her sister and ex-lover.



“Well, it’s not completely untrue,” Dawn retorted, smiling. Her face was starting to hurt from all the happies going on today, but she didn’t really care.



“Ha, ha, ha,” Buffy faux laughed, offering her own smile in response to Dawn’s.



All the while, through the sisterly banter, Spike sat unmoved, scrutinizing Buffy’s every appearance, every action, in the attempt to catch something, a clue or anything that might indicate that she was keeping something from them. He tried to not appear blatant in his scrutiny but she caught him. He quickly said something, “Feeling alright, pet?”



“Yeah. Willow told me I was all Exorcist girl before I woke up last night. Probably explains why my muscles were all achy this morning,” she replied, needing them to believe she was fine. Deciding she wanted to talk about anything else, she eyed the two of them comfortably sitting on the cot. “And when did you two form the Basement Club?”



“We were just hanging out. Geesh, Buffy,” Dawn exasperated, smiling at Spike as she slinked off the bed and headed to the stairs. “See ya later, Spike?”



“Sure thing, Nibblet.”



Buffy stood and watched the spectacle, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as her head went from Dawn to Spike and back to Dawn. Turning on her heel, she followed Dawn up the steps, wondering what had transpired between her little sister and her once vampire lover so that they were now again on friendly terms. She couldn’t help but wish that her relationship with Spike was that easily fixable.





********





Smack. The fledgling went sprawling to the ground, never knowing what hit him. Suddenly, someone pounced on him, fists pounding his face, making it impossible to get up. “First, she doesn’t love me,” Spike growled, punching the newly risen vamp in the gut. “Then, she starts shagging me; usin’ me,” he continued, roughly picking the vamp up by the lapels of the suit he’d been buried in. “Couldn’t love me ‘cos I was lacking in the soul department,” he stated, tossing his victim into a nearby tombstone. “Go out and get my bleedin’ soul back, go bug shaggin’ crazy and for what? For her to call me a bloody poofter in front of everyone!” he exasperated, throwing his arms up in the air.



The vampire he had been pummeling groaned as he slowly rose to his feet, wobbling around as he tried to get his bearings. “Dude, who are you talking to?” he asked, his hand holding his head and he staggered toward Spike.



“Nobody,” Spike answered as he backhanded the vamp, the blow making him fly back into the crumbling tombstone. “So then, I do what she wants. Get all bad ass again; kill the fucking demon and does she even notice? Do I get a little recognition? Did I even get a fucking hello this morning? NO!” Spike screamed as he rammed the stake in his hands into the vamp’s chest, the dust coating his boots.



Letting out a depressed sigh, Spike trudged along the cemetery, continuing his patrol. That had been his seventh vamp that night. He hadn’t told Buffy he was going out. He should have since the First still technically had its hold on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually face her. He knew if he had, he would have said something that he’d immediately regret. So he decided to go out alone, let out some steam and then head back and face the music. Lord knows that the moment she’d ask something of him, he’d do it. Glutton for punishment, love’s bitch after all.



Figuring the night’s hunt was most likely finished, he turned around, ready to go back to Casa Summers. Spinning on his heal, he knocked right into Buffy.



“Bloody hell! Where’d you come from?” he asked angrily.



“Whatever happened to heightened vampire senses? I could have staked you and you’d have been none the wiser,” she scolded, her arms crossed over her chest.



“Was distracted is all,” he answered, starting on his way back to the house with Buffy keeping pace by his side.



“Distracted with what? Watching vampire dust in the wind?”



“I was thinking. I know it’s hard for you to imagine, but I do reflect upon things on occasion,” he stated, clearly upset at the tone she was using with him.



“Sure, in a school basement, not in the middle of a cemetery where you could get killed!” she retorted, her arms flying in exaggerated gestures.



“Fine! I’m sorry for getting you all riled up with my almost possibly of getting killed. Happy?” he asked.



“No,” she grumbled.



“Why am I not surprised?” Spike mumbled as he quickened his step.



“Why did you leave without telling anyone, you know…?” Buffy started, but was cut off by a growling Spike.



“I know the trigger’s still active, alright? My bloody conscious won’t let me forget it. But I was willing to risk it; needed to get the hell out of that house.”



He peered over at Buffy who appeared somewhat saddened. A long pause passed between them, only the sound of Buffy’s heeled boots echoed through the silence around them. “I’m sorry,” she said.



“Wha?” Spike barely verbalized, coming to a complete halt.



Buffy looked up into his flabbergasted face. “I’m sorry. About what I said yesterday. Chloe died and I felt so helpless and the First was taking advantage of the fact that nobody’s meeting up to their full potential, so I kinda exploded.”



“Noticed, pet. Didn’t hold much back, did ya?”



“Trying to apologize here. What part of ‘I’m sorry’ are you having difficulty with? I said those things yesterday without really thinking about what was coming out of my mouth,” she said, motioning for them to continue on their way home.



Spike followed, head slightly bowed. “But you still meant it.”



“Yeah I did. But it doesn’t mean I was right,” she commented as the approached Revello. “It doesn’t mean you were wrong either.”



“How so?” Spike asked, giving her one of his infamous head tilts.



“It was what I wanted. The soul. But I don’t know if that’s what we need right now,” she answered, the hem of her jacket becoming suddenly very interesting.



“Guess that’s just too bad, luv. It’s not going anywhere,” he declared, realizing they had finally arrived.



“I know. That’s why it wasn’t fair for me to ask from you what you couldn’t give. And I’m sorry.”



Spike didn’t say anything; he just stood there, his glance fixed on her face as a wave of emotions coursed through him. He wasn’t sure what the apology signified. It was a rare occurrence when Buffy admitted she was wrong; especially with him never being on the receiving end of those few admissions of guilt.



“So we’re okay right?” Buffy asked, still fiddling with her jacket. When Spike didn’t respond, she started to worry. “Spike? We’re cool right?” she pressed, the hint of fear affecting her voice.



With his gaze still locked on her face, he shook his head. “No, luv. We’re not okay.”



“What? Why? I said I was sorry about yesterday.”



“’S not ‘bout what you said. ’S what you’re not sayin’ is what’s makin’ us not okay, Slayer,” he said. He knew it could blow up in his face, but maybe if he could get her to consider telling him what was wrong, she might actually do it.



“What the hell are you talking about? What is it that you think I’m not telling you?” Buffy vehemently demanded, hoping he wouldn’t notice that the fear she had managed to push all the way down inside of her was now working its way back up.



“You bloody well know what I’m talkin’ about.” It was all he said in response. He wouldn’t prod any further because it would most likely make her close up. What he hadn’t expected was to see Buffy suddenly crumple, collapsing to ground, sobbing. He instinctively sunk down next to her. “Buffy, luv, what is it?”



She didn’t reply, she just continued to give out these gut-wrenching sobs that burned right into him. Spike had never seen her so broken and vulnerable, it made her seem so human. Nervously, he reached out a hand and placed it gently on her shoulder, expecting the physical contact to somehow pull her out of her hysteria. She flinched and shook her head erratically, scooting away from him as she hugged her arms around herself. The rejection hurt a bit, but he was used to it. Why would his attempt to comfort her be any different?



Her crying suddenly ceased and she began to stammer, her vacant eyes fixed on the ground in front of her. “I thought I was fine. That nothing really happened and it had all been some wacko hallucination. But I don’t feel right. They did something to me Spike; I’m not Buffy.”



Panic took hold of Spike. “’S not a relapse, is it? ‘Cos there’s nothing wrong with you, luv. The spell Red did, it didn’t change you.”



Buffy hysterically shook her head at his words. “It’s not about me coming back wrong. It happened last night, when I met with the shadow men,” she explained, hiccups occasionally cutting her off.



“What did they do, luv?” he asked, inching his way closer to her now that she was calming down.



Her eyes slowly glided up to his face, the emotionless stare she sent him caused him to shudder uncontrollably. “They…they…” she paused, her eyes brimming once again with tears. “They put a demon in me.”



Spike looked at her confused. “I don’t follow, pet. How could they put a demon in you? You’re alive and from what I can tell,” he took a quick sniff, “still human.”



At Spike’s statement, Buffy appeared to relax a little. “I still smell human.”



“Same scent,” he reassured.



“It was demon spirit or demon essence that got sucked into me. They said it was how they made the first Slayer,” she explained, her breathing easing into a steady rhythm.



“So what you’re sayin’ is that you got a bit of demon in you? More than you had before, anyway,” Spike inquired.



“Yeah,” Buffy confirmed. She let out a noise that was between a laugh and a whimper. “Guess you we’re right after all. I am a creature of the darkness.”



Suddenly, she felt Spike grab her upper arms, twisting her to face him. “Don’t ever say that,” he firmly told her, his fierce blue eyes aching with remorse for the fact that he had once said those same words to her. “I was a bleedin’ fool. You deserve to be in the light, luv; not in the shadows with me.”



“You don’t understand. The fact that the Slayer was made with demon essence means I haven’t been human since I was chosen. How can I possibly kill them now knowing what I am?” she asked, her voice hoarse with emotion.



“I do it all the time, pet,” he mentioned, receiving a contemplative look from Buffy. “Demon might be in me, but it doesn’t define me; like it doesn’t define you. You’ve had this demon mojo in you for all this time and it never changed who you really were inside. If anything, it made you more human, luv,” Spike stated, easing his grip on her.



“How’s that?” she snorted through her sobs; not the least bit convinced by the statement.



“You save the world. Not many people can even aspire to such a thing. You made the ultimate sacrifice for mankind and you’d do it again if you had to. Buffy, you are the bravest and most selfless person I know. Demon quality super powers might have started it, but it was you, luv, who kept yourself in it. In the face of adversity, you triumph again and again. Not ‘cos of the sodding demon voodoo, or Slayer obligation but because of your heart,” Spike whispered, believing every word his inner William was spouting.



“You make me sound like some sort of saint,” Buffy chuckled sadly as Spike let go of her.



“Not a saint. Just a woman who makes mistakes but who never stops trying in spite of ‘em,” Spike retorted, offering her a warm smile.



“Spike, the demon mist should have had done something to me, but all I feel is messed up in here,” she told him, clutching at her chest.



“Buffy, maybe you just haven’t tested it out yet. But that doesn’t matter anyway. Look, this thing that they did to you, it doesn’t make you any less of a person than you were before. If anything, this could help you against the First.”



Buffy watched as he stood up and eyed the hand that he offered her. Taking it, she was lifted to her feet, her face mere inches away from his. Smiling, he bashfully took a step back and nodded. “Better get inside, luv. Tomorrow’s another day.”



Spike started toward the front entrance, expecting her to follow. When he didn’t sense her behind him, he stopped and turned back only to find her standing in the middle of her front yard. His brow knotted in confusion as she remained perfectly still. “Pet?”



“We okay, Spike?” The question was so low; he barely heard it even with his vampire hearing. She seemed so open, so exposed that whatever he said could strike her down. Giving his trademark smirk, he replied, “Of course.” And with that, Buffy moved past him and entered the house with Spike not too far behind.


 

Chapter 3: Never Let a Girl Watch You Sleep





The next morning had been pretty much uneventful, except for Anya chasing after Andrew with a wooden spoon, but Buffy had never really gotten the details. Instead, she let the girls have some R and R. Most of them spent it huddled in the living room, watching chic flicks, gossiping over teen magazines while they porked on junk food. Buffy knew the distraction was necessary for the Potentials and everyone else in the house. Xander and Dawn had opted for some away time, volunteering to do some errands, which gave them a chance to get out and peruse the mall. Willow had convinced Kennedy to go out for some coffee and talk, needing the privacy to deal with resolving their relationship problems. Anya, after delivering a few whacks to Andrew with the wooden utensil, had managed to rope him and a few other girls into board games. The last time Buffy had checked, Anya owned both Boardwalk and Park Place, with a hotel on each.



Buffy, on the other hand, was pacing her room, unsure of how to spend her day off. After she had said goodnight to Spike, she just went on autopilot and headed straight to sleep. She hadn’t really reflected on what was spoken between them the previous night. So now, she was in her room, alone and all she wanted was to go see him, talk to him. Walking over to her door, she stopped. “No. He’s probably asleep,” she said out loud, finding any excuse to not go down to him. She started to pace again. “But, how could he possibly sleep with the all day slumber party going on downstairs,” she rationalized, heading for the door. “No! I can’t,” she yelled at herself, getting frustrated. “God, its just Spike! Why the hell is this suddenly so complicated?” Finally, throwing the door open, Buffy stormed out, determined to not let her insecurities affect what she wanted to do.



She went downstairs, acting as though she hadn’t spent the last twenty minutes contemplating whether or not she should go down and see Spike. No one noticed her come down and slip into the basement; they were all too preoccupied with having a little fun. It was dark and she had to wait a moment for her eyes to adjust to the change. Taking the steps one at a time, she stealthily made her way down without a sound. Scanning the room, she spotted the cot and found Spike, deep in soundless repose. He was bare-chested with a single sheet draped over his jean-clad legs. His chest never rose, but he would occasionally let out some sort of rumbling noise, which Buffy figured was the closest thing he had to a snore. She smiled at the idea.



The fact that she was standing there watching Spike sleep suddenly hit her and she nervously slinked back towards the steps, feeling guilty for invading his privacy. “Buffy…” She froze when she heard him, thinking he had caught her. Turning around, she saw him, still in la-la land. “Buffy…” he called out, obviously dreaming. She smiled sadly at the longing in his voice. ‘I guess I am all he dreams about,” she reflected as she made her way closer to him. It was only when she got close enough that she saw that his brow was furrowed in pain and that his eyes moved erratically beneath their lids. “Buffy, no…” he whined. “‘M sorry… Never meant…Never hurt…” His chest started to heave and his body trembled as he let out one last choked sob. “‘M sorry.”



Buffy watched, like one would watch a train wreck. She couldn’t bear seeing how Spike’s guilt had filtered into his dreams but she couldn’t bring herself to wake him, afraid she’d crossed a line by merely being there. God, all she wanted to do was comfort him, like he had done with her just last night. It was then that she realized that what Spike needed was to know how she felt. He needed to know that she forgave him. If Spike could see past the demon, why couldn’t she get over his?



Taking in a deep steadying breathe, Buffy inched toward him, kneeling next to the cot as she reached out a hand which hovered above his shoulder. “Spike,” she called to him, her voice firm but soft. Spike remained fitfully asleep, moaning as he tossed in his bed. “Spike, wake up,” she repeated, lowering her hand to touch him. He nearly flew out of the bed because of it. Buffy suddenly found herself lying down beside him with two strong arms wrapped around her waist while his face was buried in the crook of her neck. From his whimpers and moans, she knew he was still asleep, still agonizing in his own personal hell.



“Spike,” Buffy called his name out again, hoping her close proximity would stir him.



He didn’t wake. Sighing, she allowed herself to settle into him, wrapping one of her own arms around his bare torso while her other hand soothingly stroked his bleached head. His cool body pressed up against hers sent shivers down her spine and she could tell her proximity was taking its toll on him as well. He fretted more in his reverie; most likely due to the fact that her presence made the dream a little too real. She knew she had to wake him up. She wasn’t really helping him, but just furthering his torment.



“Spike, wake up,” she urged.



That scent, that of vanilla, spice and her. It was her scent and it was consuming him. He couldn’t get away from it and it tore into him. It was only when he felt her warmth as well that he slowly withdrew from unconsciousness. Inhaling deeply, the scent invaded him and he knew he wasn’t alone on his cot in the basement anymore. Buffy was there with him, holding him. He didn’t deserve it, but he was too afraid to open his eyes and not be able to pull away from her. What form of grace had brought him into her arms? He didn’t really care. It was the loss of contact that left him filled with trepidation. How could he think it was okay for him to touch her? How was he going to summon the strength to actually let go?



Gradually, he gathered enough will power to lift himself up and open his eyes so that his gaze would fall upon the woman who unwillingly laid claim to his heart. “Buffy, what are you doing here?” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.



He expected anger, and some pushing on her part, but all he received was Buffy smiling up at him. The image almost made his dead heart beat again. She lay beneath him, her blonde hair slightly disheveled, out of its ponytail and the smile spread over her lips was truly genuine. God, she was beautiful. And it made his guilt all the lot worse. But before he could pull away, she lifted a hand to his face and stroked his cheek.



“I’m just returning the favour.” It was all she said, wrapping her arms back around his body and lowering his face back to her neck. That sole action said much more than mere words; she was offering more than just comfort, Spike realized. Buffy was giving him her trust, and with that, no doubt, her forgiveness. With full comprehension of what was occurring between them, the dam broke and he began to sob uncontrollably into her shoulder.





********



The day had progressed, and there they remained in each others’ embrace. When Spike had finally pulled himself together, he had been completely humiliated that Buffy had actually witnessed his break down.



“Sorry for going nancy boy on you, Slayer. Blubbered my eyes out enough,” he had said, sulking.



“Call ourselves even, one spaz attack for another,” she had joked in response.



She had been careful not to act repulsed or ashamed of him; she jus stayed there with him. When sleep refused to take her, she watched him, allowing herself the simple pleasure of gazing upon him, something she had never done in all the time they had spent together. She had never given herself the chance to; she would usually fly out of his crypt the moment she regained feeling in her legs. But now, as he slept peacefully, she scrutinized over every feature. How she had never really noticed the scar on his eyebrow before. How his jaw would clench occasionally and how his mouth would twitch. She lightly traced her fingertips over his cheekbones, marveling at how they could probably cut glass. She even allowed herself to inhale his scent, tobacco, soap and something that was all his own. She was surprised that she found it comforting. That being here, in his arms, pressed against his bare chest would make her feel the safest she’d had in months.



Buffy’s inspection was short-lived when Spike jolted awake. His heavy eyes searched the basement; he needed reassurance that he hadn’t dreamt it, that she was really there with him. Relaxing, he rolled onto his side so that he could look at Buffy directly, his eyes a mosaic of emotions. “Hey,” Buffy said.



“Hey, luv,” he responded, his voice low, as though he subconsciously tried not to do anything that might scare her away.



“Good sleep?” she asked.



“Not bad,” he said, but his azure gaze told her differently. He never looked more content. “What time is it?”



“I don’t know. They’re still pretty noisy upstairs, so I’m guessing it’s probably coming close to dinner time.” Spike’s stomach gurgle confirmed her estimate.



Buffy giggled at the sound. “Guess you’re right, pet. Better get myself my sanguine supper,” Spike commented, but he didn’t move.



“Spike, for you to get blood, it would require moving. As in getting up from bed,” Buffy chortled, slowly sitting up.



“I don’t want to. Scared I’ll never get this again,” he said, wrapping his arm around Buffy’s stomach.



“I don’t know what this is, or what it means. But I know I can trust you because I wouldn’t be here with you otherwise.”



Spike released his hold on her and sat up, his eyes focused on hers. She knew that she hadn’t said the words out loud yet, that she had simply shown him through her actions. But now, that they had been vocalized, that they could never be taken back, did he allow himself to actually believe he was forgiven. It no longer made him feel unworthy, to be in her company; if anything, he felt, for once in his unlife, loved. Even if he was being delusional, he felt it.



Nodding, he scooted off the cot, throwing on a black t-shirt and lacing up his boots. Buffy just sat and watched him, until he was standing before her, waiting for her to get up as well. They moved soundlessly to the stairs and up to the awaiting mob, leaving behind them their sanctuary and one brief moment of closeness.





********



The basement door opened upon the utter chaos that was the Summer’s main floor, the kitchen being the focal point of disarray. Somehow Buffy had found herself pulled away from Spike’s grasp and into the mayhem; Molly had almost burned the house down trying to make some sort of meat sludge, Vi had broken three plates in her attempts to wash dishes and Amanda had spilled a jug of orange juice all over the counter. Each we’re desperately cleaning up their messes, only to bump into other Potentials which lead to further demolishment of her kitchen. The clean up soon turned to yelling and frustration where you couldn’t even hear yourself think from all the noise. ‘That’s it!’ Buffy thought. “Everybody Shut UP!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.



Well, it worked. All eyes were on her, bodies frozen in their actions. They all looked at her in fear, and she knew they we’re expecting ‘MeanBuffy’ to rip right through all of them like she had the other night. She didn’t; keeping her composure, she calmly started to give orders. “Molly, Vi, and Amanda stay and clean up your messes. Everyone else, get out of the kitchen and I’ll order pizza. The few grumbles were muted by the loud cheering of at least twenty teenage girls. Buffy sighed when everyone did as they were told.



She spotted Spike making his way out toward the back door but she didn’t stop him. He probably needed some space and a smoke. Hell, at that moment, she wouldn’t have said no to a cancer stick. Shaking her head she made her way to the phone and ordered eight party size pizzas, hoping it was enough to sate all the hungry girls in her home.



Hanging up the phone, she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall to watch the girls. “We so need a maid,” Molly complained, scarping the bottom of the pot she had been using. “Or at least a cook.”



“We could always make Andrew a slave boy. He’s a hostage so he’s got no rights,” Amanda suggested.



“Knowing him, his only culinary expertise will be that featured on Star Trek,” Vi commented, wiping down a glass.



“I thought he was a Star Wars geek?” Amanda rebutted, only to receive an apathetic shrug from Vi.



“We’re not making Andrew our maid,” Buffy stated with a smile. “So what you girls do all day?” she asked.



“Nuffin’ much. Watched the telly mostly,” Molly answered, still working at her pot.



“Yeah, we just hung out,” Amanda added. “But…uhh… I wouldn’t go into the living room if I were you.”



Buffy shook her head and pushed off the wall, not heeding Amanda’s warnings, she ventured into the other room. She really should have stayed in the basement. Calling it a mess would have been a compliment; it was as though she had stepped through a portal and where her living room had once stood there was now the city dump. Rest and relaxation day this was not. Okay, General Buffy resurfaces once more.



“Okay,” she called out to every girl in the house. “There will be no food if the house stays this way. Everybody find a spot and clean it up. I want to see floor people!”



More groaning, but the threat of no food had worked; the girls scurried to clean the mess they had made. Within half an hour, the floor was rid of every piece of garbage, all sleeping bags had been rolled up and the house almost sparkled. Buffy patted herself on the shoulder on a job well done. Letting the girls go with the promise of not making any messes, Buffy ventured upstairs to change since somehow brown goop had splattered on her shirt during the anarchy. She found Andrew helping Anya bring down laundry; she thanked the gods that they had only brought it down now, when she wasn’t in Spike’s bed wrapped in his arms. She grinned at the memory and longed to be back on his cot with him. Everything seemed so simple.



Yanking off her top, she flung it onto her chair, throwing on a simple black t-shirt instead. After inspecting her jeans for any traces of missile food, she made her way back down, straight to the back porch. She found him, pacing the back yard, hair still a bunch of disheveled curls and body tense sans black leather duster. The moon illuminated his pale features as the ember of his cigarette danced back and forth against the backdrop of night. “Spike, you’re making me dizzy,” she said, announcing her presence to him.



He turned his head to look at her but continued treading back and forth, letting out short puffs of smoke after every inhale. “What happened today?” he asked, his voice brimming with insecurity.



“What do you mean ‘what happened today’?” she asked, praying inwardly that Spike wasn’t regretting what they had shared in the basement.



“Downstairs, luv? With me makin’ an ass of myself, openin’ up to you,” he explained, annoyed that she was playing dumb. He lowered his voice suddenly. “And with you being there, in my arms. Being with me. What was that, Buffy?”



“I don’t know. What makes you think I’ve got any clue as to what’s going on?” she exasperated, throwing her arms up in frustration.



“Well I sodding well don’t! One minute you hate me, then you believe in me and then I wake up to find you in my bed of all places, telling me that you trust me!” he yelled, luckily not drawing any attention from those inside. “Can’t you see why I’m being such a headcase ‘bout it? It doesn’t make a lick of sense.”



Buffy sighed and plopped herself down on the back steps. “I wish I had answers for you but I don’t.”



“So what? We just strike it up to a bit of cold comfort? A glitch? Is that all that was?” he asked, becoming frantic.



“You know it wasn’t,” Buffy said, staring up into his distraught eyes. “Whatever it was, whatever it meant, all I know was that it didn’t feel wrong. I didn’t feel wrong.”



Why did he have to look at her like that? Had she really messed with him that badly? Had she crushed him so painfully that his eyes fill with so much joy at the mere thought that she didn’t find him repulsive? Buffy trembled at the thought, pleading with the fates that she’d never return to what she had become last year.



She noticed Spike had stopped pacing and had sat himself next to her, all too reminiscent of a previous night where he had comforted her. “Where’d we go from here, pet?” he inquired.



Buffy shrugged in response. “We work, we fight and we try not to hurt each other. Hopefully time will tell.”



“Okay,” Spike said, obviously disappointed.



“And if there are spontaneous basement sleepovers, so be it,” she added, giving him a warm smile, which was received with a big goofy grin.
 

Chapter 4: Letting Them In





Buffy, with Spike only a few paces behind her, stepped out into the crowded hallway, welcomed by countless girls who were dispersed throughout the house enjoying their pizza dinner. She spotted Xander and Dawn portioning the last of the slices out to the unfortunate few that had not gotten any yet. “Mental note: Pay Xander back,’ Buffy reflected as she made her way over to them just as the last slice was handed out.



“Hey guys. Thanks for covering pizza duty,” she said, taking a few empty boxes from Dawn and heading back to the kitchen.



“No problem. But, if I were you I’d start feeding these girls more often or at least get them muzzles. I haven’t seen a mob that ravenous since my Hyena days,” Xander chuckled, following her with a similar stack of cardboard.



“That bad, huh?” Buffy asked.



“I’m surprised I still have all ten fingers,” Xander joked as he placed the boxes by the back door with Buffy.



Suddenly, all that could be heard was a loud squeal and the sight of a blurred figure zoom past them to the kitchen counter. Throwing open the lid, Dawn nearly dove into the pizza box. “I’m starved!” she announced, wolfing down a full slice in mere seconds.



Xander turned to Buffy and gave her an apologetic look. “We saved a pizza. Want a piece of whatever Dawn hasn’t managed to consume in the past thirty seconds?” he asked.



“That’d be great, Xander,” Buffy replied, quickly getting disgusted by the sight of her sister’s binge fest. “Hey Dawn, ever hear of mastication? It means chew,” she scolded, receiving an annoyed look from Dawn.



“So you guys have fun today?” Buffy asked as she bit into the pepperoni slice that Xander handed her.



“Totally,” Dawn enthusiastically announced. “Impending doom and possible world annihilation really brings out your inner shop-a-holic.”



“Plus, getting out of the house, extra perk,” Xander added.



“So what’d you do, Buffy?” Dawn asked, polishing off her third slice.



It was only at that moment that Dawn’s question made her realize she hadn’t seen or heard Spike since they had come back inside. Glancing around, she spotted him leaning against the archway leading from the kitchen to the hallway, quiet eyes simply observing those who usually paid him no heed. Their eyes met, and where she would normally turn away from his penetrating gaze; she held steady her hazel eyes to his blue. “Took a nap,” she answered Dawn’s question, smiling in Spike’s direction.



Neither Dawn nor Xander paid any attention to the exchange, too wrapped up in their pizza eating. But when Xander spoke again, Buffy broke away from Spike’s cerulean gaze. “How could you sleep with super slumber party going on?” he asked, biting into his second slice.



Glancing back at the vampire, still with a smile on her face, she responded. “I found a way.” Not wishing to seem obvious, she changed the subject. “So are Willow and Kennedy back yet?” And almost as though they were waiting for those words to be spoken aloud, the two women walked through the front door.



“Buffy?” Willow called out.



“In the kitchen, Will,” she responded.



They walked into the room hand in hand, never looking as happy as they did at that moment. ‘I guess all’s forgiven,’ Buffy figured.



“Hey Willow. Hi, Kennedy. Pizza?” Buffy asked, gesturing to the nearly empty box on the counter.



“No thanks. We already ate,” Willow replied, looking over at Kennedy who shook her head, also not wanting to eat.



Buffy didn’t say much after that. Everyone broke out into conversation about how they spent their day, with Xander and Dawn finishing off the last few greasy slices. Willow and Kennedy had seen some sort of indie film before they had dinner at some swanky French restaurant. Dawn had managed to drag a begrudging Xander around the mall, taking full advantage of that fact that her shoplifting induced banishment was now lifted. Needless to say, by the end of the day poor Xander had had his fill of being Dawn’s personal shopping bag mule. As those she loved reminisced about their day, one without any appearances by the First or Bringer ambushes, all she could dwell on was how she was lying to all of them.



She hadn’t told them about what had happened to her in that dimension and how she had, thanks to those misogynistic shadow men, become extra demony. She’d only told Spike, and that was only after he forced it out of her. It wouldn’t be good if it somehow came out that she had confided in Spike before she had ever considered telling anyone else. She realized that she needed to tell them; that she had to tell them tonight. She needed to tell them before she completely destroyed the fragile balance she had finally managed to restore since last year.



Buffy peeked over at Spike again. She wasn’t surprised to find him staring at her, a perplexed look etched across his face. She knew he was trying to read her; he was usually good at it. Giving him a reassuring smile, Buffy took in a deep calming breath and addressed her unsuspecting friends.



“Guys,” she said, cutting into Dawn’s ode to strappy sandals.



“Yeah, Buff?” Xander replied.



“I need to tell you something,” she said, her voice a little unsteady.



“So spill,” Dawn retorted, slightly annoyed she’d been interrupted.



“Not now. When the girls are asleep, I want you all to meet me back here,” she instructed.



“Buffy, what is this all about?” Willow asked, obviously concerned.



“There’s something you should know about what happened to me when I was with the shadow men. But I can’t get into it now,” she stated, leaving them to dwell on the possible reasons for holding a secret meeting as she made her way into the living room.



“C’mon, let’s get them to bed. Early morning training tomorrow,” Buffy called back, making up an excuse to make a houseful of girls turn in before ten o’clock.



By nine o’clock Buffy had managed somehow to get a large group of hyperactive adolescent girls to get to bed, knowing most of them wouldn’t be getting to sleep until hours later. Walking into the kitchen, she could see that everyone had been waiting for her as though they had never left and anticipating the worst. Without a word, she made her way to sit on one of the kitchen stools and waited for a barrage of questions to fly her way. When all she received was mind numbing silence, she realized that they were waiting for her to start.



“When I went through the portal, I met with the men who had made the First Slayer. They explained to me how they had given her power and then did the exact same thing to me.”



Willow was the first to speak up. “Buffy, what do you mean they did the same thing to you?”



The calm and collected demeanor she had been trying so hard to keep up crumbled with a single tear trickling down her cheek. “They made the First Slayer by putting a ‘demon spirit’ in her,” she explained, her voice hoarse with emotion.



“And they did it to you too, didn’t they?” Xander confirmed, his heart sinking at the thought.



Buffy only nodded in response, unsure if she could vocalize a reply.



“Do you feel any different?” Dawn asked gently, placing a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder.



Buffy shook her head. “No, not really. Just feeling a little violated I guess.”



Dawn pulled Buffy into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry Buffy. I’ll do anything you want to help you get through this, ‘kay?” she sniffled.



“Thanks Dawnie,” Buffy whispered back, squeezing her sister one last time before letting go of her.



“Buffy, why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Willow asked, somewhat afraid of what could possibly be manifesting itself inside her best friend.



“I guess I had to deal with it first. I was total denial girl for a while,” she responded, twisting her hands in her lap nervously.



It was then that she noticed that Spike was, for a usually hyperactive and impatient vampire, being completely stoic. He was still in the same spot, leaning against the doorframe, but this time with his trademark leather, wordlessly watching her as she spilled her guts to her friends and sister.



“That was,” she continued, “until Spike pulled the confession out of me.” She said the words out loud and immediately glanced around, scrutinizing everyone’s reaction. Seeing the concerned and slightly bewildered looks she was receiving, Buffy persisted in her explanation. “So, I’m telling you now. This thing they did to me is suppose to help us, but I really don’t know how. I’m sorry I kept this from you guys,” she finished, her voice cracking ever so often with an escaping sob.



“I knew something was up. I just didn’t wanna push it,” Dawn told her, hoping in some way it would be comforting.



“So,” Xander chimed in, trying to drain out some of the tension that had accumulated in the room. “We research? Figure out what exactly they possessed you with and how it’s suppose to help us against the First?”



Buffy smile at his words; her friends weren’t mad at her. She was relieved and allowed herself to exhale the breath she had been holding ever since she had entered the kitchen. “I guess that would be the thing to do, right? Get into Giles’ mode?” Buffy responded lightly.



“Sure. I’ll hit the net and Xander’ll get those donuts he promised,” Willow reassured, while Kennedy, who had remained uncharacteristically silent, graced her with a kind smile.



“Okay, but can we leave it until tomorrow? Teary eyed confessions take a lot out of a Slayer. We can start after I get back from work,” she proposed, receiving nods of agreement.



“Okay, tomorrow I’ll be here with armful of crullers, but for now, I wish you all goodnight. I definitely need to get some good quality time with my neglected bachelor pad,” Xander said, giving Buffy a reassuring hug before heading out the back door.



“Guess we better get off to bed too. Goodnight,” Willow said, giving Buffy a hug before she took her girlfriend’s hand and headed to their room.



“Love you, Buffy,” Dawn said, giving her sister a quick peck on the cheek. As she passed by Spike in the kitchen’s doorway she gave him a sappy grin, telling him that she was grateful.



And then, like so many times before, it was just the two of them. “Night, pet,” was all he said as he turned toward the basement door, not wishing to keep her from the rest she had said she needed.



“Spike,” she called out to his leather clad back.



“Yeah, luv?” he answered, glancing back at her over his shoulder. She walked over to him, took his hand in hers and pulled him along with her, away from the basement and up the stairs.



Spike couldn’t make one coherent thought or verbalize one single word. He was dumbfounded and extremely confused; he hadn’t had the slightest idea as to where she was taking him or why. Finding himself set on autopilot, he simply followed Buffy in a haze.



They abruptly stopped in front of her bedroom door. Spike wanted to scream when she opened the door and guided him in, but he was frozen in a mix of shock, fear and complete happiness. Finally managing to get his vocal chords to work, Spike began to sputter. “Luv…what…why?”



“I don’t really like it in the basement. It’s too cold and the cot hurts my back,” Buffy explained not really acknowledging his incoherent question.



Leaving him to stand in the middle of her room, Buffy made her way over to her dresser, pulled out her Yummy Sushi pajamas and walked directly passed Spike to go to the washroom to change. All of this was done in what seemed comfortable silence as though she believed it was the most natural thing to have Spike in her bedroom. Spike on the other hand was absolutely bewildered as he stood there alone in the room that was the setting of so many of his dreams.



Seconds later, Buffy returned all pj sporting and scrubbed up for bed. She eyed Spike wearily. “You gonna sleep in your duster?” she asked, nonchalant.



“Buffy, what the hell is going on?” Spike demanded to know.



Sighing, Buffy dropped her casual façade and plopped down on her bed, shoulders slumped and head slightly bowed. “I just want you here, with me, okay?”



Spike stared at her as though she were growing horns. “So what you’re tellin’ me is that you want ME,” Spike thumped his chest, “to sleep with YOU,” he pointed to her, “in your…” he gulped, causing his Adam’s apple to bob, “your bed?” he managed to say almost letting out a very unmanly squeak.



“Yeah. I do,” she said, smiling at his nervousness. “But sleeping as in actual sleeping, you know, with the clothes and…the clothes.”



It was Spike’s turn to smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, shrugging off his duster.



Buffy quirked an eyebrow, giving him a disbelieving look.



“What? I wouldn’t,” he reiterated, kicking off his boots.



“So you don’t expect this to get all with the groiny?” Buffy asked a little surprised.



Sitting himself down beside her, though careful not to touch her, Spike fixed his eyes to the floor. “If it means going back to the way things were last year, luv, yeah, I’d rather steer clear of the good ole rough and tumble, if that’s alright with you.”



In silence, Buffy took his hand for the second time that night and held it for a brief moment; to tell him that she felt the same way he did. Glancing up, Spike could see her pulling him up to the head of the bed, but it all seemed so surreal. What he wouldn’t have given to have been in her bed and in her arms all of last year? To be wanted by her not just physically. If his heart could beat no doubt it would have exploded by now. But as much as the elated feeling of being wanted was making him unbelievably happy, all the soul did was remind him how he didn’t deserve any of it. It made him ache just knowing he might actually get what he always wanted but couldn’t bring himself to actually take it. He was beginning to tremble like a ponce and at any moment could possibly break down sobbing at the unfairness of fate. With a steadying, yet unnecessary breath, Spike slipped beneath her comforter and wrapped his arms around her waist so that her head rested lightly on his chest.



“Spike?” she whispered.



“Yeah, pet?” he rumbled, finally managing to calm himself.



“Goodnight.”



“Goodnight, luv.”





********



Sleep didn’t take either of them. He sure as hell tried, but having her so close and so willingly trusting him was making it impossible to even stay still. Not to mention that having her body sprawled over his was causing blood to rush in directions that would draw some unwanted attention. Even with the soul and its accompanying guilt, his body still reacted to her like it always did. Making sure that specific part of his anatomy never came into close proximity to her, Spike shifted slightly, desperately trying to alleviate his discomfort.



Buffy, though she tried, couldn’t sleep either. She was feeling something strange. Not bad strange, but more like different strange. Being in Spike’s arms should feel wrong and totally inappropriate after everything Buffy had done to him and what he had done to her because of it. Yet that wasn’t how she felt at the moment. If anything being with him seemed so right. Since she came back from the grave, Buffy hadn’t felt as at peace as she did with him right then. She didn’t understand it. Was she finally making peace with not only what happened with Spike, but with her life in general? Was she finally allowing herself to see the love he always claimed to have for her? Was she finally letting him in? And if so, could she actually find a way to have a healthy relationship with Spike?



Mewling, Buffy rolled out of his embrace and peered up at his misleadingly sleeping face. His brow was furrowed as though he was thinking but his eyelids were gently shut. Dreaming, maybe? She kept her eyes on him and reflected on what had occurred between them since she had been pulled out of the portal not two nights ago. ‘He does love me,’ she internally admitted. ‘Maybe even truly before the soul.’ Buffy shook her head not wanting to even consider that possibility because if she did, then having used him like she had seemed all the worse. Acknowledging Spike’s love for her was one thing, but being able to reciprocate those feelings was another. She was going to need some time, but she wasn’t sure with the lingering apocalypse, if she could afford it.



Rolling back into his arms, Buffy snuggled into his chest and allowed herself to fall asleep. Spike, who was still feigning sleep, opened an eye to peer down and wonder why Buffy was so restless.



Buffy was the first to wake up to the sound to the sound of girls giggling, chattering and even yelling outside her bedroom door. Groaning, she glanced over to look at her alarm clock. 7:00 a.m. She let out an annoyed moan only to hear a low chuckle reverberate the air next to her.



“They could at least be a little considerate for those of us still trying to get a few more winks,” Buffy stated, rubbing her face into Spike’s chest.



“Wasn’t it you who ordered early morning training, luv?” Spike pointed out.



“Whose side are you on?” Buffy mumbled into his black shirt. “If I let them wake me up, I’ve got to get up out of this bed.”



“Right. You want me to kill them or maybe just sew their mouths shut? Make it real quiet for ya. Could stay in bed all day,” Spike joked, in total seriousness.



“With you of course,” Buffy said.



“Of course, pet.”



“As tempting as that sounds, I gotta get up anyway. Ugghh, I hate Mondays,” she stated as she tumbled out of bed without the slightest indication of Slayer grace.



Spike remained perfectly still and watched as Buffy stretched, yawned and stomped her way to the bathroom. He could hear her arguing with one of the wannabe slayers, declaring that her job required showering, and that since that said job paid for their accommodations, she was allotted line butting privileges. Spike chuckled when he heard the recalcitrant girl begrudgingly give up her spot at the head of the line.



It suddenly hit him then. He was lying in the Slayer’s bed after a night of just sleeping, comfortably observing her morning routine as though he had been doing it for centuries. It irked him how simple everything felt at that moment. Unfortunately, he knew it was anything but. Though Buffy was moving on, no doubt her demon essence possession was going to be on the top of the Scoobies’ to do list. They hadn’t really talked about the confession she had made to her friends the night before. He was surprised when she had told them what had happened without him having to push the issue, and he was thrown even more when she admitted that he was the first person she had told. He knew it was significant; some sort of indication that things were progressing with them. Spike knew she wasn’t going to go running to tell the Scoobies about their little sleepover, but she had to know it couldn’t continue. Not without someone finding out.



It was fine by him though. Well, sort of. He didn’t want to be her dirty little secret. Had enough deception last year alone to last two lifetimes. Spike decided he would wait. He had enough faith in Buffy that she wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes. He had to trust her, right? She was giving him that much, so shouldn’t he? He chuckled. The whelp’s gonna have a coronary when he finds out. Then again maybe he should push the issue. No. He would wait. He would trust Buffy’s judgment and simply wait.



“Hey Buffy, just wondering if I could borrow your…”



Spike’s head shot up to see someone standing at the doorway, eyes wide in shock.



“Spike?”

 

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