"Buffy." Spike gave her a shy smile as she barged into his crypt. He felt a surge of happiness. She'd come to him sooner than he'd anticipated.

“You’re back.” She fixed him with a blank stare; devoid of emotion, no hate or love-just one long, empty look. She slid her hand across his cheek and then pulled it back abruptly.

“Still a vampire, I see.”

“Yeah…still the evil, vicious undead,” he replied, all thoughts of bliss dashed by the look on her face.

He blushed.

She tilted her head to the side and watched the blood rise in his cheeks.

“Are you blushing?”

“Bloody hell, no! Vampires don’t blush. Bleeding cheap pig’s blood Willie sold me last night. I’ll kill that wanker!”

He scrunched his face into what he thought might be a fierce, evil look. He failed miserably.

She just laughed at him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, nothing…will you leave now? Please?”

“You want me to leave?” She sat down on the edge of his armchair.

“Yeah, you heard me, you bloody bint. Get out! Or I might just give you a little bite.”

He tried to morph into his demon face, flash his fangs at her. Nothing happened, except that his face just turned a deeper shade of red.

“Are you sick?” She felt a small pang of concern, but quickly pushed it away.

He turned his back to her and said, “I’ve asked you politely. I’ve asked you rudely. What will it take to get you the hell out of my crypt?”

“Where do you get off telling me to leave?” Her voice shook with anger. “So that’s it? No ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘please forgive me? Why did you even come back here?”

“Look Slayer, you made yourself perfectly clear. I disgust you. You hate me. But I didn’t ask you to come here. I can damn well go where I please. What I do is none of your business anymore. I sussed it out, Slayer. You never loved me.”

“What are you up to Spike? Some new twisted game to get me into your bed? Playing the poor, misunderstood vampire? I so don’t want to see your pathetic face around here anymore.”

“You know what Buffy? You never knew me. But one day you’re gonna wake up and know what it is you really want. And guess what? I’m not interested anymore.”

He gave her a hard look.

“Got my chip out,” he blurted out the lie, “I’m the big bad again. So you and your little friends better watch out. Don’t love you. Bitch. Get it? Now get the bloody hell out of my sight!”

He stood up and stumbled toward the door. He motioned silently with his head for her to leave. His mouth twisted with anger, but when he glanced up at her, his eyes held an infinite sadness.

She stepped back, scrutinizing him from head to foot. She noted how his hand trembled as it clutched the door.

“Something’s not right here. Something’s going on. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.”

She shook her head and sauntered toward the crypt door.

“Ask me if I care.”

He tried to say the words as venomously as possible, but they came out a bit low and weary.

“Do you care?” she asked; her voice suddenly gentle.

She stared at him as she stood in the doorway, her eyes disconcertingly vulnerable.

“Not any more, pet. Not any more.”

He slammed the door in her face before she could see the tears welling up in his eyes.

“I think YOU came back wrong!” she shouted through the closed door.

“Bitch always has to have the last bleeding word.”

His voice echoed through the empty crypt.

“I heard that!” Buffy yelled back at him and then stormed off through the cemetery.

He opened the door a crack and watched as she ran away. As she’d always done. As she’d probably always do. Run from him. He was glad now, that he hadn’t revealed to her what had happened to him. What he’d done for her. Just for her, out of love or perhaps just plain anguish. He’d nursed such a wonderful sweet fantasy, these last few months, about how their first meeting would play out.

“Give her what she deserves. Bloody hell.”

He laughed bitterly to himself, realizing, perhaps, that what she deserved was for him to have the courage to let her go.

He flung himself down on his makeshift bed, forcing himself to sleep. Unfortunately for his tender new soul, he proceeded to have a stunningly erotic dream of her -involving handcuffs, some very sexy high heels and a red silk scarf.

* * * * *

“Why is he back?” Xander asked.

He sat the kitchen counter and watched Buffy as she halfheartedly washed the dishes.

“Thought we’d seen the last of fang boy. Just what you need now, Buffy. You want me to get rid of him? Make with the dust?”

She paused to consider what life would be like with Spike dusted. Spike gone. Forever. Never have to see his sneering face, hear his taunting, snarky voice again. Never having to feel the humiliation of remembering that she’d let him…She tried to stop the flow of images. Straddling him…him moving deep inside her, moaning her name…his head nestled languidly between her thighs…the way he always wanted to watch her face as she came…again and again…the sexy, tender look on his face, and the longing in his voice when he’d clumsily try to entice her into…

“Oh god,” she thought, “What if I never touch him again?”

“No…no…” she spoke the words under her breath.

She turned to face her friend.

“Leave him alone Xander. He hasn’t bothered me. He didn’t try to see me. I went there. Just wanted to see what he was up to. You know - keeping tabs on the enemy.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

She didn’t respond, just stood and stared out the kitchen window as the last rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon.

“I don’t think I need you to come with me on patrol. Things are pretty quiet out there tonight,” she said, changing the subject.

“Sure? ‘Cause all bored here. Could use a little demon smashing action tonight.”

“Have you seen Anya lately?”

“Not going out of my way to get my entrails rearranged. Why do you ask?”

“Will you ever forgive her?”

“She made her choice. I could never touch her again.”

“Can’t you understand why she did it? Even just a little?”

“Never. Not in this lifetime.”

“You forgave Willow.”

“That was different Buffy. She wasn’t herself. She was in pain.”

“And Anya wasn’t in pain?”

“You know. Not really wanting to have this conversation. What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know. Just feel blue.”

“It’s Spike. I knew he’d cause trouble. Why don’t you just go stake him…after all he…”

“Xander, know what? I’m tired. Think I’ll just go to bed and forget the whole Slayer thing for tonight.”

She walked over to the back door, opened it and gestured for him to leave.

“Hey Xander, one last thing. I think you better stay away from Spike. He’s chipless.”

* * * * *

--------------------------------

Chapter 2 - The Orionids

--------------------------------

She tossed and turned for a few hours. Impossible to sleep. Why did he come back? She tried to understand what she was feeling and she finally concluded that she really didn’t feel much of anything. She couldn’t even imagine that she’d had a relationship with him. Well, not really a relationship. Just sex. Lots of sex…she pushed the thought away. She wondered what he’d thought they’d had. Did he think that he’d been making love to her? No…no…don’t go there either. No love. Just weirdness and…the feel of his naked skin sliding over her body…

She sat up abruptly.

“Not going to get to sleep tonight.”

She wandered through the streets of Sunnydale. It very was quiet out. Not a demon or vampire in sight. The stars and constellations were brilliant in the sky. She stood at the edge of the cemetery and watched as a star fell out of the sky near Orion.

“Wishes…what will I wish for?” she thought, “What do I want?”

She stood motionless in the starlight; her eyes closed in concentration and her arms clasped tightly around her.

“Wish I had blonde hair and… I wish… I’d never slept with Spike,” she spoke out loud.

She turned her back on the cemetery and strode slowly down the street back toward Revello Drive.

He stood in the darkness behind a tree. He’d overheard her wish.

“Well I can’t grant her the first wish. But I can certainly do something about the second.”

He scanned the sky, hoping to see another falling star, so he could make his own wish, but the stars held their course.

* * * * *

It was late afternoon when he woke up. The sun was blazing through the bars of his crypt, illuminating the spider webs and the dust particles that swirled through the air.

“What a dreary place,” he thought. “I really can’t live here anymore. Besides, don’t want her barging in on me again. Must forget. Else I’ll go mad. Don’t fancy being a mad, broody vampire with a soul.”

He waited until nightfall and then went down to the corner liquor store. He bought a Sunnydale Times and a pack of cigarettes and brought them back to his crypt. Later that evening, he set the paper down with a sigh. He’d circled several places that were for sale at prices that he knew were inflated. They wouldn’t sell fast. His plan was to find a nice empty house and become a squatter, and then just migrate to the next house when things got too hot.

He spent the rest of the night scouting out the places he’d identified. None of them seemed very promising to him, that is, until he drove up to the ninth house on his list. It was located on the outskirts of Sunnydale, and it appeared as if it hadn’t been lived in for years. The paint was faded and the yard overgrown. Some of the upstairs windows were broken and boarded up, and the picket fence around the yard was sadly in need of repair. The best feature of the house was that it was set back off the street and surrounded by a few acres of land. There didn’t appear to be any close neighbors, just a few abandoned warehouses and a run down business district a few blocks away that had seen better days.

* * * * *

The next morning, just to be safe, he called the number listed in the ad. He wanted to find out a little more information about the owners and what their intentions were. A young woman with a sleepy voice answered the phone.

“53 Orion?” she repeated the address back to him in a slightly surprised voice, “Are you sure? Let me check.”

Spike heard a shuffling of papers in the background and then heard her yawn loudly.

“OK, here it is -53 Orion owned by…I can’t make this out…Deceased…what a funny last name. Oh…let’s see…here it says ‘contact Miss Lillian Mintaka’ and wow, there’s about thirty addresses and phone numbers here…most of them crossed out. No, here’s one…do you know where Land’s End is?” She finally ran out of breath.

“Ah miss…?”

“Miss Branch.”

“Yes, Miss Branch…is the house still for sale?”

“It’s been on the market for ten years…no one’s gonna buy that old heap at that price.” She ruffled through some more papers, “There’s a letter here from Miss Mintaka. She did have a caretaker, she writes, but he died…a month ago and she’d like us to find someone new. Are you interested in buying? I’m free now. I could show it to you.”

“No…not now…I’m at work,” Spike lied, “but I could come by about, let’s say 8 pm. And I’m not really interested in buying, but I may be interested in the caretaker position. What does it pay?”

Spike and Miss Branch discussed the details of the job and arranged to meet at the house at 8 p.m. sharp. She’d bring along the paperwork for him to apply for the position.

* * * * *

At 8:30 Miss Branch finally showed up at the house. Spike was pacing back and forth along the sidewalk; he’d almost decided to leave when she drove up.

She jumped out of her car and ran over to where he stood. She was strangely excited.

“The weirdest thing happened!” she exclaimed, “Just as I was about to leave, the phone rang, and who do you think it was calling long distance?”

About this time, Spike was heartily regretting his possession of both a soul and the chip. He longed to bite her or at least give her a good smack.

“Have no idea you stupid bint,” he said under his breath.

“Miss Mintaka! Isn’t that an amazing coincidence?!” She paused to catch her breath, “And she says she doesn’t need an application, just to hire you straight off.”

She shoved a single sheet of paper at him. “You just need to sign here and it’s all settled.”

After she’d showed him around the house she gave him the keys and walked back out to her car.

“If you have any problems, just give the office a call. I’m going on vacation tomorrow but Mr. Nilam can help you. Only speak real loud when you talk to him, ‘cause he doesn’t hear very well anymore. He must be a hundred years old!”

She gave Spike a quick smile, jumped into her car and drove off.

* * * * *

Spike rode slowly back to his crypt. He sensed something was a bit off kilter. Everything had fallen into place far too easily. He had a new place to live rent free- all above board. He would even get paid a small salary, just enough to keep him in blood and cigarettes and a few other necessities like scotch and Weetabix. It was too good to be true. That was a big problem.

“Been having big problems ever since I came to this hell hole years ago. Why should things be any different now? Just accept that something good happened to me today. To hell with tomorrow,” he thought.

He felt his spirits rise a bit. For the very best thing about the house was that it was clear across town from Revello Drive. Far enough away, perhaps, for him to start to forget.

He gathered up his meager belongings scattered about the crypt, tied them onto his bike and without a backward glance, rode off to his new home.

The house was sparsely furnished. There was an old iron bedstead and a feather mattress in the master bedroom. Someone must have cleaned up after the last caretaker had passed away for he found a set of clean, but worn, sheets and towels in the bedroom closet and several new blankets. He put away his things in a scratched and stained wooden dresser that stood next to the bed. He made up the bed and drew the heavy dark blue drapes across the windows. He went downstairs and locked up the house.

Trudging back up the stairs, he thought of her, and he was overcome with a wave of loneliness. Strange, that he’d never felt this type of loneliness before, and he wondered if this was what having a soul really meant. Hurting and lonely, and aching for something he could not name. All the time. For no reason whatsoever.

He undressed and flung himself down onto the bed.

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

There was no moon and the night was dark and full of the scents of autumn. He was floating in water; floating silently in a still, icy pool or pond. He opened his eyes and above him the Milky Way splashed across the sky. He couldn’t tell where his skin ended and the water began, or even, whether or not he was separate at all from the endless blanket of blackness and glittering silver which arched above him. He felt a deep peace and for the first time, since that terrible night in the cave when his soul had been returned to him, he was glad. Glad he’d done it. Not for her. But for himself, and he felt a stir of excitement and anticipation, rising inside him, as if he were beginning a journey where the final destination was unknown.

He rose out of the water and the next thing he knew he was laying naked on the floor of his bedroom. Two warm hands slowly caressed his inner thighs, gently moving them apart. Someone was inching their way up his body. He felt the softness of two full breasts pressed against his groin and then suddenly she was upon him, straddling him. She positioned herself just over his erection and teased him by slowly slipping her wetness back and forth against him. He grabbed her hips and with a swift motion, lifted her slightly and plunged himself deep inside her. She cried out his name and he woke suddenly. The feeling of peace, which had come to him when his dream had first begun, was shattered.

* * * * *

He roamed around the house until dawn. He was afraid to go back to sleep in the bed. Afraid that she was haunting him.

-------------------------------------------

Chapter 3 - The Spring of Eridanus

-------------------------------------------

November 15th

It was a damp November evening, before Buffy got her nerve up to visit Spike’s crypt again. She hadn’t seen him since he’d demanded that she get out of his crypt. He’d been acting so strangely that day. That had been more than four weeks ago. Four weeks. She couldn’t believe how slowly the time had passed. Everyday she’d expect to see him, run into him somewhere in town, but she never saw him and she couldn’t understand why she felt so restless.

“Am I worried about him? No way! Don’t want to think about him. Never. Again. But why did he come back?” Her mind churned. She couldn’t imagine that he had any reason to come back to Sunnydale other than to see her. But it seemed she’d been wrong. Very wrong.

The door to his crypt was hanging open and as she stepped inside she could sense its emptiness. He wasn’t there. In fact, it didn’t appear that anyone had been there for some time. She searched the top floor and then climbed down to search the lower level.

“Abandoned,” she thought. “He’s gone.”

She sat down on his dusty, disheveled bed and wondered why she didn’t feel elated. After all it’s what she told him she’d wanted all these years. For him to get out of her life. She thought about their last meeting and how she’d thought there was something odd about him. A look in his eye, the way he’d blushed. He hadn’t fawned over her or tried to ask her forgiveness for what he’d done to her before he left the first time. Just told her to get out. Like he was just bored and irritated that she’d shown up to bother him. Like something was missing inside of him.

“The chip,” she exclaimed. “He’s back to his old ways. Completely off the leash now.”

She looked morosely about the room. The room where’d they’d spent so much time together. And then it struck her-what she’d sensed had been missing from the dynamic of their encounter.

“He really doesn’t love me anymore.”

* * * * **

Anya glanced at her watch. “Almost closing time,” she thought, looking out the shop window at the streetlights which had just flickered on. She was busy inventorying a new shipment of books that had just been delivered to the Magic Box. The store was finally back in business after several months of repair and remodeling after it had been destroyed by the battle with Willow.

Giles had been kind enough to finance the repairs. He’d been very sweet to her over these last months and she was surprised at how much she missed him after he returned to England. He did write though. His letters were full of advice about the business, most of which she’d ignored. Giles didn’t really like business, but that didn’t stop him from thinking he was an expert. But it had been wonderful of him to help her out and she looked forward to his letters, mostly just to gaze at his farewell signature, which he always included: ‘With much love, your friend Giles.’

She considered her current existence precarious at best. She was living a life in the shadows. She really didn’t have any other friends now and all she did was work, trying to save a little money…for what, she didn’t know. Money had begun to lose its attraction lately. She tried not to think of the future. Her dreams of life as a human, of love, marriage and perhaps a family were completely abandoned. She couldn’t afford to wish for something different now. No more wishing for her. Especially no wishes that involved him. From what she’d learned from Giles, Xander had been completely involved helping to rehabilitate Willow these last six months. He’d never even thanked her for the help she’d provided the Scoobies that day.

“Why am I thinking about HIM again?” she spoke out loud, “Go away, you miserable, betraying, lying male!”

“Am I interrupting?”

“Spike!” she smiled.

“Hello luv. How’ve you been?” Spike paused at the door, not sure he was really welcomed here.

“What are you doing here? Giles told me you’d left Sunnydale for good.”

“Want me to go?” he asked quietly, and turned to leave.

“No!” she exclaimed, “You just surprised me. Looking for Buffy? She’s not here. None of them ever come by here anymore.”

“Buffy?” he asked in an odd voice, “No, no…that’s all over…long over. Finally came to my senses about that little bit o’ insanity.”

“Well come in,” she gestured to one of the chairs, “Sit down and I’ll get you something to drink…ah…tea.” She stammered. The memory, of the night of their last encounter, suddenly making her embarrassed.

He strode over to the chair and sat down.

“No thanks, luv. I don’t want to keep you long. I just have a small favor to ask.”

“Sure. But no wishes.”

She shrugged her shoulders and then suddenly moved a few steps closer to where he sat. She leaned over and peered into his eyes.

“What happened to you?!” she exclaimed.

* * * * *

The strange thing about his new home was that it appeared to be immune from invasion by the occasional vampire or demon he’d see stroll past. He’d be sitting in the downstairs living room and sense their approach. They’d stand outside on the side walk, staring at the house, perhaps thinking that it was the perfect location for a nest. Then they’d try to open the gate and as soon as their hand touched the wood, they’d howl in pain, just as if they’d stuck their hand into direct sunlight or into a burning flame. He had no idea what kept them out. He didn’t sense evil or a spell. The only thing he noticed was that the air around the house felt a bit heavy or thick, as if the oxygen level was higher than usual. Perhaps it was all the overgrown vegetation.

He’d tried to do a little research into the mysterious Miss Lillian Mintaka, but had come up blank. Mr. Nilam was worse than useless as an information source. All Spike could get out of the old man regarding his new employer was that she was, “Quite the gal, very nice ankles. Wears lovely big pearls.” The old git had a thing about ankles though Spike doubted if Mr. Nilam could even see that far anymore. Probably just lived on the memory of past visions of delight.

He was out in the backyard trying to clear away some of the weeds and overgrown shrubs. He didn’t mind things being overgrown. You didn’t really notice such things when you spent your life in darkness. But he’d been awakened lately by odd rustling and gurgling sounds from the yard and thought if he’d clear things away he might be able to find their source. Probably just raccoons or possums. But one never knew. He thought he’d do it just to be on the safe side and if Miss Mintaka ever showed her face, at least he could say that he’d earned his salary. He tried to work just after sunset or in the early dawn, when there was enough light to see what he was doing, but could avoid the painful effects of the direct sun.

He found that he actually enjoyed the physical work. He missed being physical, patrolling, fighting…making love.

“No don’t go there. Mustn’t think of her, the bitch,” he swore to himself. “She never cared about me. Never loved me.”

It had become his mantra which he’d chant desperately whenever the memories of her surfaced-‘Never loved me.’

He threw the rusty hedge clippers down into the weeds.

“Enough for today.”

He was slowly weaving his way back toward the house through the brush and trees when he tripped on something and fell flat on his face.

“Bloody hell!” he growled and started to get up off the ground.

And then he heard it. A small spring was bubbling beneath the overgrown grove of lilac bushes next to where he’d fallen.

“What’s this?” He crawled through the overgrown branches and began to clear the debris and leaves from the water.

The spring was flowing into a small pool. He noticed, with surprise, that it appeared that the pool was encircled with small hewn stones, embedded into the ground. He splashed some water from the pool over the stones and tried to clean them off with a handful of dried leaves. The stones were smooth and white. He began cleaning them with renewed vigor. Soon he had the whole circle cleared and the stones softly reflected a bit of light from the newly risen moon. The circumference of the pool was only about two feet and the stones which edged it were about six inches square. He sat back on his heels, pleased with the results of his labor. On sudden impulse he scooped up a handful of the icy cold water and took a long drink. His vision darkened and he slowly lost consciousness.

* * * * *

He was running through a crowded room. Smoke was pouring through the windows and swirling across the ceiling. He could see flames consuming one end of the room. People were screaming. He had to find her…knew she was somewhere trapped amidst the throngs of desperate humans trying to escape. The roof started to collapse and he saw her standing motionless beneath a molten beam falling from the ceiling.

“Buffy!” he screamed.

She turned toward his voice and began pushing her way toward him. The beam fell, just missing her by inches. She held out her arms to him and he grabbed her, lifted her into his arms and carried her outside and far away from the building. He set her down on a patch of grass and when she stopped coughing she looked up at him in surprise.

“Why did you do that?”

He looked at her, a bit dumbfounded, “What do you mean? You would’ve died in there!”

“Yeah. That was the point, stupid. Why do you always mess in my life? Can’t you leave me alone?”

“You wanted to burn up?”

“What’s it to you?”

“What’s it to me? To me?! You idiot! After all I went through for you! I’m not going to stand around and watch you kill yourself!”

“What? What did you go through for me? Felt bad for a second about forcing yourself on me, did you?” She got up off the grass and started to walk away.

“You’re not walking away from me. Talk to me,” he cried, “Please, Buffy! Talk to me.”

“I don’t know how.” She turned back to him and threw her arms around his neck. She gave him a soft kiss, molding her body against his.

“This is all I know.”

* * * * *

He woke up several hours later. He was lying flat on his back next to the pool.

“What the hell happened?” he thought to himself.

He shook his head struggling to wake up. He stood up slowly, a bit unsteady on his feet and went back into the house. He threw himself down onto the living room couch and fell back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

--------------------------

Chapter 4 - Rigel B

-------------------------

He slept through the night and the next day. It was just past midnight when he finally woke up He was ravenous. He checked the refrigerator and discovered to his dismay that it was empty. He’d planned to stop by the butcher’s shop to refresh his supply of blood, but he’d slept the day away and now all the shops would be closed. He had to eat. The only place he could think of to get blood at this time of night was Willie’s. He’d been avoiding Willie’s place since that first day he’d come back. He knew that sometimes she’d drop in just to harass or get info from the clientele.

He put on the dark gray coat that had been a gift from Giles. On his way back to Sunnydale, he’d stopped over in London and spent a few weeks with Giles, who had tried to help him adjust to his new situation. Not that it’d been much help, because they’d spent most of the time arguing. But Giles had given him the coat as a parting gift and he liked the soft feel of the expensive, sturdy, yet soft material. It hung down past his knees, and the cloth was so tightly woven that it flowed gracefully around his body as he moved. It made him feel, sometimes, as if he were flying through air. He’d forgotten to ask Buffy what she’d done with his duster after he’d left it in her house that day. He knew he’d never wear it again. That part of him was dead. Truly dead.

He decided to walk. Save money on the gas. Besides the old motorcycle needed a bit of work. The engine was running far too hot lately. He meandered slowly through the darkened streets of Sunnydale, avoiding the main, brightly lit roads. The pale light from the sickle moon, hanging low on the horizon, didn’t obscure the brilliance of the stars shining in the November sky. Underneath the heady fragrance of dead leaves, he could smell the sweet scent of young winter grass beginning to push up toward the sky.

Except for an old demon sleeping at a table in the far corner of the bar, Willie’s was empty. Willie was watching the news and looked up in surprise when Spike entered.

“Spike! Long time no see! Where you been? I thought…”

Willie paused and gave Spike an inquiring look. “Spike?” he looked puzzled. “What happened to you?”

“Got a soul,” Spike blurted out and immediately regretted it.

He quickly morphed into his vampire face and growled, “You tell anyone and I’ll…” His human face returned and he shrugged his shoulders, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Damn man! So where’d you get the soul?” Willie asked.

“Business slow?” Spike said, ignoring his question.

“Yeah,” Willie said.

He took a few steps back to keep out of Spike’s reach.

“Um...ever since the Witch went wild last spring, the demon crowd’s pretty much thinned out. That and the Slayer. She’s taken to stopping by here every night. Just to harass me. In fact, you just missed her.”

Spike gulped. “That was a close call,” he thought to himself.

A wave of longing for her washed over him and he began repeating his mantra under his breath, “Never loved me. Never loved me.”

“Never loved who?” Willie grinned.

“Nothing,” Spike mumbled. “Actually, I came here to get some blood. I want it fresh, hear? Not that trash you sold me last time.”

After Spike and Willie completed their transaction, Willie offered him a scotch.

“It’s the real old stuff, on the house, in celebration of the return of the prodigal…er…what the hell are you?”

Spike gave a shrug, “Anyone’s call now, mate. Who’s the old git in the corner?”

“Oh he’s harmless. Just an old water demon.”

“Water demon? Never heard of ‘em before.”

“Yeah, there’s not many left, what with most of the water around here being dead -so he claims. Comes in here for the Swiss Spring Water. He’s very picky. Drinks six bottles and then huddles off in a corner and sleeps like he was dead drunk.”

Spike picked up his glass and downed the contents in one gulp. He put the glass back down on the bar and motioned for Willie to pour him another. As they slowly downed the bottle of scotch, Spike related his story to Willie.

“Damn bad luck getting a soul. What are you gonna do now?”

“No sure, mate. Just live,” he smiled, “What else is there? I’m still bad, by the way.”

“Yeah, sure. Well watch out for the Slayer. I think she has it in for you. Always asking about you every time she stops by.”

“Yeah?” Spike perked up a bit. “And what does she want to know?

“Wants to know if anyone’s seen you. She gets a mean look on her face when she says it, too. I think she’s got a stake with your name written on it buddy. I’d stay clear of her if I were you.”

“That’s so…” Spike said thoughtfully, “Hey Willie, do me a favor. Not too many people know about my little affliction. I meant what I said. Keep it to yourself.”

“Sure man, you’ve been a good customer…I’m not one to turn my back on…er… friends fallen onto bad times.”

Spike picked up his bag of blood and said good night. He’d gone about a half a block when he noticed that the old demon from Willie’s bar was following him. Spike turned quickly and shoved his face up next to the demon’s.

“Got a problem?” Spike growled, morphing into his vampire face.

“No…no…it’s just that…” he looked fearfully at Spike. “Would you mind changing back? My heart’s a bit weak and I find it hard to talk with those fangs pointed toward me.”

Spike laughed and morphed back to his human visage.

“How’s that old man?”

“Much better thank you. Uh… you’ll be wondering why I followed you.”

“Yeah…don’t like demons messing in my business mate, what do you want?”

“It’s just that…well I need some help. It’s quite dangerous living out here on the streets for someone of my advanced years. Not the strong young buck I used to be.”

He smiled hopefully and Spike noticed that most of his teeth were missing.

“So what do you want from me?”

“I was wondering if you could put me up for a while, just until I get back on my feet.”

Spike looked the old demon up and down. His skin was a faint powdery blue and had a strange translucence; he was quite human-like in appearance, except for two small horns tucked discreetly behind his ears. Unlike most demons, his eyes were a deep blue, speckled with flecks of silver; his shoulder length hair was pure white. He wore a tattered black suit that must have been at least seventy years old. He was very thin and frail looking, almost on the edge of death.

“This old demon is never getting back on his feet,” Spike thought to himself, “He’s the sorriest wreck I’ve ever seen.”

“Don’t think that’s a good idea.” Spike shook his head. “I don’t really like company and besides I don’t even know who you are. You could be an Anthra demon in disguise and try to dust me while I’m asleep.”

“Hmm…yes I see what you mean. Well nothing ventured, nothing gained, I always say. But it did think you might do it…just out of kindness,” he smiled wistfully and started to walk away.

Spike stood frozen to the spot. An uncomfortable feeling rose in his heart and he shook his head, “Wait…what did you say?”

“Nothing ventured…”

“No, no. About…kindness,” Spike spoke the words slowly.

He went over and put his hand on the old demon’s shoulder.

“Well, come on then. I’m a daft bleeding fool and will probably regret this in the morning, I’m sure. So… what’s your name old man?”

* * * * *

Xander was walking home after patrolling with Buffy. Lately he’d find himself standing outside of the Magic Box in the early morning hours. He didn’t know what possessed him to keep coming back to the place. It held so many bad memories for him now, but still there it was. He’d patrol with Buffy and then intend to go straight home, but instead he’d find himself walking down the street toward the store. Tonight he made a conscious decision to avoid it. He took a back alley and was surprised to see Spike walking ahead of him, with his arm draped over the shoulders of what appeared to be a very old demon.

“What fresh evil is this?” he thought. He slowed down and decided to follow them from a distance.

He followed them for about fifteen minutes. They wound through back streets and crossed over the railroad tracks and into the warehouse district at the north edge of town. He hid behind a burnt out truck and watched as Spike and the old demon entered what appeared to be an abandoned house.

“So that’s where he’s been hiding out.”

Xander waited until they’d gone inside and then ran back home.

* * * * *

Spike unlocked the front door and showed Rigel around the downstairs living areas.

“The upstairs is mine. Don’t go up there, got that? You can stay in this room next to the kitchen.”

He showed Rigel the small room. It had a large window facing northeast that opened out over the back yard. Rigel stood by the window gazing up at the sky and gave a deep sigh.

“Just wonderful, Spike. I’ll never forget this. Never.”

“Yeah, yeah save it for someone who cares. Here’s a blanket. I’m going to have bit to eat and then I’m off to sleep. Don’t touch anything!” He gave Rigel a hard look.

* * * * *

Spike stood looking out the north facing window of his bedroom at the stars. The moon had set and he wished that he could leave the curtains open and fall asleep watching the stars. A risky proposition, for with his tendency to oversleep, he just might end up taking a dusty sun bath.

He smiled to himself, “I could buy a bloody alarm clock.”

And then he thought of all the times she’d awakened him so that he wouldn’t get caught in the sun, and his smile faded.

* * * * *

The next evening Spike and Rigel were sitting in the kitchen eating their dinner. Spike was sipping on a cup of warm blood and Rigel was on his fourth bottle of Mont Rose.

Spike eyed the demon sitting across from him. “It’s a bit of an expensive habit, don’t you think?”

Rigel finished off the bottle with relish and set it down on the table. “Not really, I run a few errands for Willie and sometimes he gives it to me for free.”

“So just exactly what is a water demon?”

“We guard sacred springs and rivers, sometimes lakes.”

“Doesn’t sound very evil or demon-ish to me,” Spike smiled.

“Well I’m not exactly a demon, more of a dryad, you might say. A water spirit -but I can be just as bad as the next demon…grr…errk!” He tried to imitate Spike’s trademark growl. It sounded more like a squeak.

They both laughed.

“I have something I’d like to show you out in the back yard.” Spike held out his hand to the help Rigel out of his chair.

“Ah…” Rigel knelt beside the small spring and started to take a sip of the icy water.

“I’d be right careful of that. Last time I took a drink out of the pool…”

“It’s the Spring of Eridanus!” Rigel exclaimed. “And the water’s still alive!”

“Alive? You alright there?”

“Yes…yes…don’t worry about me…it’s just that…well who would imagine in this place…this old house and this terrible neighborhood. Who did you say owned the house?”

“Didn’t say.”

“Well never mind, plenty of time for that latter. Just think of it. The spring…Ah Eridanus, the river of tears…the river which flows between heaven and hell.

“A river of tears,” Spike repeated slowly. “Bloody Fantastic. Just what I needed in my backyard.

* * * * *

That night Spike had another dream.

He was back in the cave with the demon shaman, and the beetles were crawling over him, biting and tunneling into his flesh. He screamed, but no sound came out of his mouth. The next thing he knew he was laying on the floor of he cave, barely able to move. He opened his eyes and tried to speak. He needed to speak. The words burned inside his throat. He was desperate to get them out. Finally he croaked, “…what she deserves…deserves….” and then he passed out only to awaken next to the small pool in the back yard of his house. His hand was hanging over the stone ledge and his fingers were submerged in the cool water. He felt a strange tingling in his hand and up his arm, almost as if a thousand small stars were dancing up through his skin and empty veins. He quickly pulled his hand out of the water and sat up.

Buffy was sitting about ten feet away from him. She had a stake in her hand and was absently tapping it back and forth on the ground.

“Why are you here?” she asked him.

“Because I love you,” he answered. “Why are you here?”

She looked down at the stake in her hand and then back up at him, “This is for him.”

“Him?”

“He really, really needs to die. Don’t get in my way. I mean it Spike. He has to die.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. Who’s he?”

“Don’t protect him. I know he’s here. Somewhere. Where are you hiding him?”

She stood up and walked over to where he sat. She stood before him and stretched out her hand toward his face. She bent over and, placing her hand tightly around the back of his neck, she pulled his face up to hers and gave him a deep, long, sensuous kiss. She stood up and ripped off her dress. She cupped her breasts suggestively, slowly massaging her rosy nipples with her fingertips.

“You want some of this, don’t you,” she said in a low voice. “Come m’ere you bad, bad boy…got something all wet and sweet for you.”

She straddled his lap and slowly lowered herself onto his suddenly naked and very aroused body.

* * * * *

His eyes jerked open in horror. “Oh god, god…please! No more dreams!”

He got out of bed, pulled on his jeans and grabbed his coat and started to leave his bedroom. Then he paused, swung around and gave his bed a vicious kick.

“I’m bloody well never sleeping again!” He ran down the stairs and out into the night.

---------------------------------------

Chapter 5 - Enter Canis Minor

---------------------------------------

“This is Mark,” Xander announced to Buffy and Dawn. They’d just joined the two young men who were sitting at a small table, in a dark, crowded corner of the Bronze.

Mark reached over the table and shook Buffy’s hand. He held on to it for a moment; she gazed into his eyes. His eyes were deep blue and she felt as if she were falling into them.

“Hey.” She smiled and quickly withdrew her hand. “So blue,” she thought nervously, “So like his eyes…” She felt herself blush.

The Bronze was packed with students home for the Thanksgiving holidays. It was almost two o’clock in the morning and everyone was still going strong. The music was loud and Buffy was very glad that the lights were dim.

“Would you like to dance?” Mark held out his hand again.

“Sure,” she glanced nervously back at Dawn who gave her a little smile of encouragement, “Why not?”

She stood up and soon found herself swept into Mark’s strong arms.

“Uh…this isn’t a slow dance, you know,” she murmured.

“I dance as I please,” he laughed. “It pleases me to hold a beautiful woman close in my arms, not watch her flaying about three feet away from me.” He pulled back a bit and looked down at her. “So who are you Miss Buffy Summers?”

“No one. Just another starving college student.” She glanced over the crowd, trying to avoid his eyes.

“I find that hard to believe. I think you’re someone. I can feel your energy.” He traced his fingers slowly down her bare back.

She shivered under his touch. Why had she worn this stupid backless dress? She couldn’t believe how his touch made her feel. She closed her eyes and leant softly against his chest and surrendered to his touch. She hadn’t been touched like this since Spike. She disappeared from the moment and lost herself in a reverie of Spike’s hands slowly stroking her skin, caressing her face, her arms, sliding down her back and hips…and…She suddenly stopped dancing and twisted away from Mark’s arms.

“Thanks…nice dance, but I have to…” she was at a loss for words, so she just turned around and fled back to the table.

“Dawn,” she said, giving Dawn a desperate look. “Can you go home with Xander? Feeling so not into dancing here.”

“You want me to come with you?” Dawn looked anxiously at Buffy’s white face.

“No, no, I don’t want to spoil your fun. I just need a little air and then some sleep. Stay as long as you want, OK? I mean it. I’ll be fine.” She gave a quick glance back to where she’d left Mark on the dance floor. He was walking toward their table.

“Gotta go now, love you.” Buffy grabbed her coat and gave Dawn a hug and then hurried away, out of the back door of the Bronze.

Mark stood next to Dawn’s chair, watching Buffy hurry off into the night. “Was it something I said?”

Dawn gave him a narrow look, “What did you say?”

“I just asked her who she was. Said she had great energy. Oh yeah. Told her she was beautiful.” Mark shook his head. “Most women don’t run away from me when I tell them they’re beautiful. Is that an insult these days?”

“Forget it. Buffy’s been through a lot lately. She’s a bit shy of men these days.”

“Had her heart broken?”

“Yeah, but she’d never admit it,” Dawn laughed. “She keeps stuff pretty much inside. But she’s the best sister in the world. So don’t mess with her. OK?”

“Yeah, hear you loud and clear. So what about you? Will you dance with me? I promise I won’t tell you how gorgeous you look in that dress.”

“I wouldn’t believe you anyway.” Dawn smiled and stood up.

* * * * *

Buffy gulped the fresh night air as she ran down the streets of Sunnydale. Her heart was beating hard as she sped through the empty streets. She felt as if she was being chased by an unknown assailant and was running for her life.

When she finally stopped running, she found herself standing outside of Willie’s bar. She peered through the small dirty window. The bar was empty except for Willie, who was sweeping the floor. She pushed on the door. It swung open and she strode into the room.

“Not again, Slayer!” Willie moaned. “Isn’t once a night enough? I’m closing up here!”

“Not yet. I need a drink.”

“A drink?” Willie’s curiosity got the better of him. “Well I’ve got just the thing. Opened this bottle of fine scotch, just last night.” He pulled out a half empty bottle from beneath the bar. “As a matter of fact I was sharing it with a friend of yours.”

He poured her out a generous drink. She grabbed the glass out of his hand and gulped it down. After she stopped coughing, she pushed it back across the counter.

“More.” She gave him a hard look, “You have some information for me?”

“Well let’s say a certain someone you’ve been asking about was in here last night and he’s got a big problem.”

“Who?” Buffy reached across the counter and grabbed Willie’s ear and began to twist it slowly. “Who was in here?”

“Ouch! Let me go! It was Spike, Spike!” he yelled.

“What kind of ‘big problem’? Where is he?”

No matter how hard she twisted his ear, he wouldn’t reveal to her what Spike’s ‘big problem’ was or where he lived. She finally gave up and sat back down on the bar stool. He put a safe distance between them and stood glaring at her. She picked up the bottle of scotch and drank the rest of it straight from the bottle. She gave him one long, grief stricken glance and then, propping her elbows on the bar, she sunk her head into her hands and began to weep.

Willie looked around the bar, and swore at his predicament. He shifted indecisively from foot to foot. What was he expected to do now? He walked around the bar and stood next to her and gave her a few reassuring pats on her back. He’d never hear the end of it if anyone found out he’d been playing nice to the Slayer.

“There, there, Slayer, can’t be all that bad. What do you have to cry about? I’m the one who’s going broke!”

“Broke…” she sniffled, “Broke…broken…broken heart.” She picked up a cocktail napkin and blew her nose and then started to cry all over again.

“There, there…now who was the big nasty who broke your heart?

“He doesn’t…love me…never…loved me,” she choked out the words.

Willie stared at the grieving woman in disbelief. He gave a short chuckle. “Funny thing Slayer, I heard someone else say those very same words last night. So why don’t you tell me what’s really going on between you and Spike…and then I just might tell you where he lives.”

* * * * *

“Give me ‘nother drink…’kay? Cause don’t think I can…bear to…” She started to tear up again.

Fifteen minutes later, Willie gave her the directions to Spike’s new house.

“Don’t tell him I told you, right? He can be downright vindictive, even with his new little handicap. You gonna be alright walking home?” he asked, surprising himself with his sudden concern for her welfare.

“Oh yeah…need fresh air…and poof…bright and shiny Buffy.”

Buffy stumbled out of the bar and onto the darkened street. She’d been walking aimlessly for about a half hour when she realized she was lost. She turned down a small alley, sat down on the pavement and tried to clear her head. A small plaintive whine came from under an abandoned car parked at the end of the alley.

“Something or someone hurt or lost,” she thought, “Just like me.”

She stood up and crossed the alley. She knelt down next to the car and tried to peer beneath it. The whining grew louder and she realized that a small dog was trapped under the car. She got on her hands and knees and tried to reach under the car to free it. Tied firmly around its neck was a ragged rope which had caught on the chassis.

“Here puppy, good boy, come m’ere baby. I’m won’t hurt you,” she called.

* * * * *

Spike strode on through the night. His thoughts swirled in unrelenting confusion. What was the use of a bloody soul if it couldn’t help him forget her? She didn’t even notice either, damn her. All she could see was his cold, dead, vampire self. And she called herself a Slayer. She only saw what she wanted to see. Always. Her way. Her feelings for him all locked up tighter than…no… no…mustn’t think about tight…firm…her legs wrapped around his waist, forcing his cock deep inside her tight…

“Get the hell out of my brain,” he shouted. He changed directions and strode blindly around a corner and into an alley. He came to a quick halt. His body froze in disbelief at the sight before his eyes.

The Slayer was trying to crawl under a car. It sounded as if she was speaking to someone. The firm curves of her buttocks were revealed to him as her short dress hiked up her hips. She swayed and bounced before him, as she struggled to reach her invisible prey.

“Who’s she tormenting now?” he groaned, trying to still his body’s response to the vision before him.

* * * * *

She finally snapped the rope and, gathering the small dog in her arms, slowly inched backwards. Just as she had almost scooted far enough to get her head out from underneath the car, she bumped into an immovable object.

“Can’t you pick on someone your own size, Slayer?” He bent over and, grabbing her hips in his hands, dragged her out from under the car. He let go of her in surprise when he saw what she held in her arms.

“Vampire dog?” he smirked, “All woof and grr?” He tried not to laugh. “Saving the world from the evil furry ones?” He began laughing hysterically.

The small dog in Buffy’s arms looked at Spike suspiciously and then gave a surprisingly deep and vicious growl. Spike laughed harder. The dog struggled out of Buffy’s arms and jumped to the ground. It ran over to Spike and bit down on his pant’s leg. Spike tried to shake it off, but the little dog was tenacious. Spike gave a loud growl and the dog cowered, rolling over onto its back, tail wagging.

He bent over and gave the dog’s stomach a little rub, “There, there lil’ sweetheart, should’ve known you were female, all bark and bite at first, but when you recognize a real big bad, you roll over, don’t ya?” he said gently. He stared up at Buffy, “Specially when he rubs your tummy.”

He gathered up the small dog in his arms, still stroking her fur. He whispered, “There, there ma sweet bit, settle down love, da’s got you now.”

Buffy was staring at him, almost hungrily, he thought, and then he noticed the tears gliding silently down her face.

“And are you lost, too, luv?” he said, “What are you doing on this side of town. Way over here on the wrong side of the tracks?”

She took a few unsteady steps toward him.

“Bad!”

“Bad what, luv? Bad dog? Bad Vampire?”

“Big problem…” she started to sway.

“That’s right, luv. You’ve been a big problem ever since we met. Now come m‘ere.”

He grabbed her about the waist with his free arm and held her firmly against his side. Thunder rumbled overhead and a light rain began to fall.

“Not me. You. Very wrong and… smell good…” she buried her face into his coat.

“Bit of party, then?” he said, noticing the smell of alcohol, “All alone?”

“Sick,” she gasped, “No dancing.”

“Not asking you to dance, but I do think we should get you and this little one out of the rain.

With one arm full of ferocious puppy and one arm holding Buffy, who continued to mutter “wrong” “bad” and “problem”, he slowly walked them back toward his house.

“Where are we?” she asked; her head was spinning and she was shivering in her thin dress.

“Home, luv.”

Rigel opened the door before they reached the front gate.

“How lovely,” he called, “Just the guests I was expecting. I’ve got hot baths waiting.”

He took the dog from Spike’s arms.

“Watch out for that dog, Rigel. She took a big chunk out of my pants and she’s a filthy mess,” Spike handed the dog to Rigel.

“Spike, you take the young lady up to the master bath. I’ll take care of Miss Canis…er…Miss Maisa here.”

Spike helped Buffy out of her clothes, trying to modestly look aside as she disrobed. But she needed his help to get into the bath and he was afraid to leave her alone in the water for fear she’d pass out and drown.

He got her settled in the tub. She lay back and stretched out her limbs in the warm water.

“Look,” she cupped a handful of water, raised it above and let it fall over her chest, “This water’s all sparkly. What’s that smell?”

“Smells like lilacs, but it’s the wrong season inna it?” Mesmerized by the sight of the water running down her breasts and across the soft skin of her stomach, he murmured under his breath, “Oh to be a drop of water…”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“Couldn’t leave you out on the street in your condition. All your bleeding friends would be after me if they heard. Besides,” he gestured with the wash cloth, “You’re a filthy mess, climbing all around on the ground under that car in a dress. What were you thinking?”

“She needed help…. all lost…abandoned and…” she fell silent.

He put his hand beneath her knee and slowly raised it out of the water.

“Look here, all scratched up.”

He bent over and gave her knee a soft kiss, “Let me make it better, love.” He looked longingly into her eyes, “Let me make it better…”

“Touch me,” she said.

“What…?”

“Touch me. Here,” she pointed to her stomach, “Wanna be rubbed too.”

He cautiously slipped his hand beneath the warm water and slowly began to caress her skin, as she’d demanded. She closed her eyes and relaxed her head back against the tub.

He moved his hand in a gentle, circular motion. She sighed deeply and settled into his touch. A small smile crossed her face and he could almost hear her purr.

“Spike,” she said, her eyes still closed.

“What is it? Want me to stop?”

“I don’t want anyone to touch me, ‘cept you, okay?”

“That’s right love,” he said in a low, fierce voice, “Only me.”