Violated

Three days later…

8:01 a.m.

The first thing Buffy saw when she opened her eyes that morning was the black rose that lay on the pillow next to her. She fingered the stem, mindful of its thorns, before brushing a tear from her eye.

“Hello, lover,” she whispered.

*

6:57 p.m.

Spike had known since three a.m., when Fred had phoned him, the trembling of her voice making the calm tone she was trying for useless. “He attacked Azrael,” she’d said softly, sounding so lost. “She said he just peeled the bars open like they were nothing… Spike, what do we do?”

“You don’t do anything but keep yourself safe. I’ll look for him.”

He heard her sigh. “We think we know why he lost it.”

“How’s that?”

“The Kalderash. There was an obituary; one of them died, the same day. The same time, about. The police weren’t sure on it. I tried a trace on any surviving family. I know gypsies aren’t the easiest people to find, but… I couldn’t find any. He might have been the last.”

“And that lifted the curse, you think?”

“It’s the best theory we have so far.”

“Makes sense, I guess. Red and the winger having any more luck?” He’d been informed of the failed spell.

“No, but they’ve hardly slept. They’re coming by later. Spike, what if we can’t get it back?”

“I don’t know, love.”

He’d been sitting on the couch ever since, waiting for sunset, ignoring Sophie’s concerned stares in his direction.

There was a knock on the door, and Azrael appeared. “Any luck?” he asked her, but she only shook her head.

“We’re not getting anywhere. Willow wants to crack open the prophecies, but I can’t see what good they’ll do. They’re all crap, anyway.”

“Well, do what you can.”

“You’re going to look for him, aren’t you?” He nodded slightly, his face grim. “I want to go with you.”

“If you can keep up.”

“I can handle myself.”

His eyes traveled to Sophie, who was standing to the side of the room, observing them. “Want you to look after the Slayer tonight,” he told her.

“Okay,” she replied softly, and he realized his demeanor during the day had probably intimidated the hell out of her.

“Come ‘ere,” he said, picking a pen up from the coffee table. She took a seat next to him, and he held her hand, writing his cell number in thick letters underneath her knuckles before giving her a serious look. “If there’s any trouble, at all, I want you to call. Understand?”

“Yes.”

*

10:32 p.m.

Buffy had been patrolling for nearly three hours without a trace of her former lover. Not caring if it was selfish or not, she made her way to the park, hoping to find Sophie. She sighed in relief when she saw her friend smoking at one of the picnic tables.

“He got out,” Buffy told her as she sat down.

“I heard,” Sophie replied, guilt eating away at her.

After a few deep draws, Sophie offered the smoke to Buffy, who took it, her brow wrinkling suddenly. “What’s that number on your hand?”

“Oh!” Sophie quickly covered the number with her clean hand. “Just—a contact.”

Buffy didn’t press, knowing Sophie didn’t like to talk of her vampiric needs. “You know, I should really be looking for him,” she said quietly, standing up, surprised when Sophie did the same.

“I’m going with you.”

“But you can’t fight.”

“I have other ways.” Buffy only nodded, knowing the truth of those words, and the girls began to walk.

*

11:52 p.m.

Buffy and Sophie had walked nearly six miles until the vampire realized they were being watched. She’d never been near Angel, had never even seen him, but dread filled her all the same.

“Buffy…”

Her words were cut short as something struck her from behind. Sophie’s vision was shot with black stars as she fell to the ground, barely noticing the sudden pain in her shoulder as consciousness faded away.

Buffy stared in horror as Angel stood, wiping blood from his mouth. He grinned pleasantly. “Sorry, I was just so hungry,” he explained, as if he’d been rude.

She was frozen. Punch, kick, do something! her mind screamed. “You’d really hurt one of you own?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Not like she’s got much to live for. It’s pathetic, really. At least Spike would have been prepared.” His bent his head a little, taking her in. “Besides, it’s nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you. I’ve been waiting for this.”

“You didn’t win last time.”

“You didn’t smell so scared last time, either,” he replied, smiling to reveal his fangs.

He was on her in a flash, but she’d been expecting it, and she ducked, rolling as he sailed to the ground. The nightmare had started all over again.

She fought well, but Angelus was in full form, and soon she was flying threw the air, crying out as her spine hit the pole of a streetlamp. He was on top of her instantly, his face only an inch from hers as he grinned. “You’re losing your touch,” he told her, almost sounding sad over it. “Letting all the girls do your work for you?”

Buffy couldn’t reply; she knew she had no chance. Angel, as well as Angelus, knew her technique, and had successfully pinned her. She couldn’t even twitch.

*

12:02 a.m.

Sophie woke, feeling sick and dizzy. Then, she remembered and pushed herself up, looking around.

The scene before her was too much, and she shut her eyes, wanting to block it out. Angelus covered the mostly nude Slayer, moving in a way that needed no explanation, even to her reeling mind. She didn’t have to see, but she couldn’t block out the sound of him feeding greedily. What could she do? She was too weak to stop him, he’d drained her, and she’d never had a chance in the first place.

But there was something, if she hadn’t lost it.

She held her hand out toward him, feeling rage course through her. Her face contorted in fury as she screamed.

“Brulure, chose malpropre!” Flames leapt from her fingers. She watched as they landed on Angelus’s form, and hoped Buffy wouldn’t be burned badly.

The vampire cried out in pain, rolling off of Buffy’s lifeless form. He looked at Sophie with murderous eyes. “Witch,” he growled, deep in his chest. He stood to come after her, and Sophie prayed she had the energy as she pointed at him again.

“Papa Gede, protogez votre guerrier!” Angelus stopped, seeming to hit an invisible wall. He tried running toward her again, and was knocked flat on his back. Snarling in anger, he stood and ran into the night.

Fighting to stay conscious, Sophie crawled to Buffy, knowing she was still alive, but it was barely. She ripped the bottom of her shirt off, pressing it to Buffy’s mutilated neck. With her free hand she tried to make her friend decent. She didn’t want Spike to see her this way.

Reaching into the Slayer’s pocket, she found her phone, and dialed the number on her hand.

*

12:05 a.m.

“Hello?”

“Spike.” Sophie, frightened. “Buffy…”

“Is she alive?”

“Yes, but—“

“Take her to a hospital. Where are you?”

“I can’t move her. He attacked me. Please hurry. We’re near Memorial Gardens.”

“Don’t let her die.” He hung up, fighting tears as he started to run. Azrael was right behind him.

*

12:17 a.m.

Sophie heard her sire before she saw him, and looked up expectantly as he appeared, slowing to a jog as he observed the scene before him. He looked so vulnerable at that moment that she wanted to stake herself for failing him, for letting Buffy get hurt.

She saw him inhale quickly, picking up a scent, and his eyes darkened. “What did he do?” he asked, his voice much weaker than the expression on his face. Sophie couldn’t reply.

He suddenly stalked over, kneeling down and grabbing Sophie by the shoulders, shaking her violently. “What did he do?” he repeated, his voice a deadly whisper.

Sophie turned away from the mad glint in his eye. “You know what he did.”

He released her, standing up quickly and looking up to the sky, roaring. He seemed to come out of it, however, looking to Buffy, and he swept her up into his arms, taking off down the street.

Sophie felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Azrael. “Come on. I’ll help you up.” She licked her lips. “He probably didn’t notice you were hurt.”

“I’m not upset with him.”

“Okay, let’s try to catch up, then.”

*

1:36 a.m.

The three of them sat in the emergency room’s waiting area. Actually, Sophie and Azrael sat; Spike paced.

Finally, the double doors opened, and a nurse appeared, looking toward them. “Is she alright?” he asked.

He hung up, then stood as a nurse emerged from the ER doors. “She’s been moved to ICU,” she told them. “How is she?” Sophie asked.

“Critical, I’m afraid,” she replied, glancing nervously at Spike’s stone expression. “The blood loss, on top of the wounds to her neck, and the burns. It’s a miracle she’s alive at all.”

“Right,” Spike said, his voice barely audible.

The nurse continued to talk of the tests that would be run, but Spike heard none of it. His mind was a black void. When the nurse left them, he handed his flask to Sophie. “Drink this for now. Get as close to her as you can, listen to her.” He looked at her seriously. “If she seems even close, you call me. If there’s not time, you do it.” She looked at him in disbelief. “I mean it.”

“But I can’t.”

“You will.” His gaze then fell to Azrael. “You get yourself to Red. I’ll let her know you’re coming.”

“But, they’ll know…”

“I don’t really give a damn,” he spat. “She should be warned, of what might happen if she doesn’t hurry the hell up.”

“We’re trying Spike.”

His face softened, but only a little. “I know that, pet. But I’ll do what I have to, right or wrong. And if I find him tonight, he’s dead. Unless you reverse it.” His lips twisted as he seemed to think. “Might not matter if you do or not. I really don’t think I care.”

Can't

Willow hung up her cell phone, numbly placing it on the table.

How? her mind whispered.

*

“Hello?”

“…Spike?”

“Do you get me, witch?” Seething, violent.

“Uh… yeah. I’m on it.”

*

She heard the front door open, and leaned her in her chair to see Azrael in the lobby. “In here!” she called quietly, not wanting to wake anyone, though she doubted any of them were actually sleeping.

Azrael joined her at the table, her eyes glassy. Willow didn’t have time to be comforting, however. “Was that Spike that called me?” The angel nodded. “Oh, my God.”

Azrael’s expression turned desperate. “He’ll kill him.”

“I know.”

“And… he won’t let her go. You know that, right?”

Willow didn’t understand at first, then it hit her. “He wouldn’t…” She took several deep breaths. “Of course he would. Is she really that bad?”

“They said it was critical.”

“I should get Giles.”

Before she could stand, Azrael placed a hand on her arm. “Don’t. We need to get busy, and upsetting everyone isn’t going to help anything. They’re not going to allow visitors now, anyway.”

“But… how is Spike alive?”

“He came back as a spirit, in a way. I came to fix it. It’s why I’m here.”

“That’s why…” Willow trailed off, and Azrael gave a quick nod. “Oh, my God,” she said again.

Both of them turned, hearing footsteps, and Dawn appeared in the doorway. Her lip was trembling and her eyes were wide.

“Oh, Dawnie,” Willow said, getting up and wrapping her arms around the younger girl. Dawn didn’t soften in her arms like she had hoped. She was stiff and unmoving.

“Dawn?” she asked softly, pulling away to look at her closely.

“He’s…” She swallowed hard. “He’s back?”

“Yeah,” Azrael replied.

“Dawn, let’s get you upstairs,” Willow said, giving Azrael an apologetic glance before leading Dawn to her bedroom. The girl only stared into space once Willow helped he to sit on the bed. “Are you going to be okay?”

“If he’s back… why hasn’t he been here?”

“I don’t know, sweetie. I just found out when you did, really.”

“He probably hates us.”

“Why would he hate you?”

“I never forgave him. I acted like I hated him. I never…” The tears finally won over, and Dawn crumpled to the mattress. Willow ran a hand through the girl’s long hair as she sobbed.

*

He let himself into his apartment dangerously close to sunrise. Going to the answering machine, he saw he had three messages.

Beep.

“It’s Sophie. I didn’t want to call your cell, since there’s no big change. She’s doing better, but she’s not awake. I’ll let you know.”

Beep.

“Um, Spike? It’s, uh, Willow. Azrael gave me the number. She’s on her way to Wolfram and Hart to grab the prophecies. She wanted me to tell you that we’re trying, and to ask you not to kill Angel, if you find him, but I’m not asking you to do that. Well… ‘bye.”

Beep.

Low laughter. “Hey, Spike. Just thought I’d give you a call. I know you never had the chance, but take my word, it was great.”

Spike picked up the base of the phone, hurling it against the wall.

*

Just after sunset, Sophie entered the waiting room, and four sets of strange eyes focused on her. She knew them all by description; Willow, Dawn, Xander, and Giles.

The watcher stood up just before she had a chance to escape. “There’s no need for you to leave,” he told her. “She’s been asking for you.”

“I shouldn’t be here… Wait, she’s awake?”

*

Buffy was desperately trying to remember what had happened the night before when she heard the door open. She relaxed when she saw it was Sophie. She’d told Giles what had happened, and the expression on his face had killed her. She’d forbidden him from telling the others.

“How are you feeling?” Sophie asked, taking a seat next to the bed.

“Better… Where is he?”

“I’m sorry, he got away. I couldn’t fight him.”

“No. Not him.” Her eyes burned with need. “Where’s Spike?”

*

Azrael sat in the library of the Council, with one thick book in front of her, and a pen poised over a legal pad. She knew Willow was with Buffy, but she wasn’t the best at studying, and she wished the redhead would return soon.

She didn’t have much. Written on her legal pad were a few very sketchy notes. The Keeper. The Righteous One. The Key. Is there even a Key anymore? That was all she had come up with so far.

Her eyes scanned the next page, and suddenly lit up. “And the Damned shall be set free,” she muttered, scribbling the verse down. “Oooh.”

*

Sophie let herself into the apartment. She could sense Spike, but couldn’t see him, so she went to his room. The door was open, and she saw him sprawled across his bed. “Are you awake?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, sitting up. He was bleary-eyed, and she knew he was drunk. The reek of whiskey also led her to that assumption.

“She’s awake. They’re releasing her in the morning. Spike… she remembers.”

“Remembers what?”

“She remembers you.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Balls. And what did you say?”

“She was pretty out of it still, so I just told her that I got knocked out. I figured it was your place.”

“Just tell her she was dreaming.”

Sophie’s eyebrows lifted in disbelief. “What?” she nearly whispered. Her face darkened, and after a moment, she spoke again. “No.”

“What?”

“I said no. I know that you’re my sire, but I went sixty years without one. Alone. And I don’t blame you for it, but Buffy was the first friend I ever made. The only one, really, and I’m not going to lie to her.” Spike could see the steely determination in his childe’s eyes, but said nothing. “She needs you.”

“No.”

“Spike, they all know! Why can’t you just go to her?”

“Because I almost did that to her!” he roared, coming off the bed and toward her. She didn’t flinch, but met his furious gaze with her own calm one. Because behind that fury, she could see fear, causing his eyes to become glassy with tears.

He turned his head quickly, walking across the room. “I can’t,” he said, his voice breaking.

“Do you think she’s forgotten it? Because I doubt it. You’re seriously not going to see her because of something that never happened?”

“It almost did.”

“She’s forgiven you.”

“And how, exactly, do you know that, princess?” he asked, his tone icy.

“Because I know!” Sophie shouted, her cool demeanor finally breaking. “She talks to me, she tells me what she can’t tell her friends! I know everything that happened between the two of you!” She forced herself to lower her voice. “She needs to see you.”

He avoided her eyes. “I can’t,” he said again. It disgusted her how defeated he sounded.

“Fine. But if she asks again, I’ll tell her. And she will ask.”

*

Buffy steadied herself against Giles as he led her up the steps to the front door the next morning. She was relieved that only her family was there to greet her. The slayers had obviously been told to busy themselves elsewhere. “How do you feel?” Willow asked.

“A lot better,” she replied. “Any luck?”

Willow shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. Azrael’s still here, though. We’ve been up all night.”

“I’d like to thank her. It was nice of her to come and help, when we barely know her and all.”

“Well… Angel didn’t tell you?” She seemed thoughtful. “Of course he didn’t.”

“Tell me what?”

“Why I’m here,” a voice replied, and Buffy turned to see a raven-haired beauty standing in the doorway. She’d only heard of Azrael from light conversations with Angel, and knew that she killed demons for him. “I’ve known Angel a lot longer than you have, sweetie.”

“You have?”

“Azrael’s an angel, Buffy,” Willow explained. “One of her jobs was to watch over vampires.”

“But only the ones with souls,” the angel added. “I came to earth to help one, and now I’m here with you to help the other.”

Buffy processed the words quickly, her brow furrowing. “It wasn’t a dream.”

“No,” she assured her. “He saved you.”

“Then, where is he?” Buffy asked, trying not to look as desperate as she felt.

Azrael shrugged. “Probably at home feeling sorry for himself. He’s good at that.”

“Where does he live?”

Azrael sucked in air through her teeth, looking regretful. “Really not my place.” Her wince slowly changed into a grin. “But, um, if you’re feeling sneaky later, I’ve got an address book in my purse, and it just may happen to stay in the lobby.”

Buffy smiled a little. She liked this girl. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I’d like to help. With the research.”

“Buffy,” Giles interjected, “are you sure that’s wise?”

“I feel okay. Promise.” She was lying, and she could see that he knew it, but he only nodded.

Buffy joined Willow and Azrael in the library, after her friend made sure she had a comfy pillow to lean back against, and a glass of water, and also, just in case she didn’t want water, a tall glass of orange juice. “So, why’d you come to help Spike?” Buffy asked.

Azrael looked up from her book. “He was a ghost. I fixed it.”

“Oh.” She wanted to ask so much, but didn’t want Willow to get suspicious. “Has he, um, been okay?”

Azrael shrugged. “Sure, I guess.” She smiled. “Not living in a crypt anymore.”

“He’s got a place?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s really nice.”

“But… how does he pay for it?”

Azrael looked at her warily. “He’s… been working for Angel,” she mumbled.

Buffy’s jaw dropped. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, then pursed her lips. “I swear, when we get Angel’s soul back, I’m killing him.”

Silence

That evening…

With a shaking hand, Buffy stared down at the piece of paper torn from Azrael’s address book.

*Spike
1325 27th St.
apt. 1402
#555-1249
cell #555-3668

She looked across the room at her telephone, and slowly walked over to pick it up.

*

He was getting ready to leave when his phone rang. The caller ID told him it was the Council, and he hoped Azrael had good news. “Yeah?”

The only response was a slight intake of air, but that was all he needed. It was her. His vision blurred, and couldn’t speak. Don’t hang up, he prayed.

She didn’t, but also didn’t say a word. He listened to her breath, closing his eyes, letting out his own shaky breath as he wept.

He lay that way for over an hour, listening to her soft breathing, reveling in the sound of her. Then, a voice broke their silence. “Buffy, are you ready for dinner?”

The line went dead.

*

Dawn excused herself from dinner to use the restroom. Or that was what she told everyone.

Instead, she made her way into Buffy’s room, looking around.

It was on the nightstand. She knew better than to even touch it; her sister would notice. Instead, she memorized the address before going to her room and copying it down.

When she returned downstairs, she saw someone had joined the group at the table. A very nervous someone. “Hi, Sophie,” Dawn said brightly, hoping to ease the anxious vampire.

“Hi.”

*

Later that evening, they sat in the library. There were only four books, but five girls. Buffy, Willow, Azrael, and Sophie were all reading quietly, but Dawn had been allowed to stay up and “help.” Buffy felt so bad for her; she’d been so broken over Spike’s death, and she couldn’t imagine how she felt now. Maybe a lot like me, she thought.

“What the hell!” Azrael shouted, causing everyone else to jump. “Listen to this. Remember the whole ‘Keeper’ thing?”

“Yeah,” Willow asked. “It’s all over these books.”

“It’s in here too, but in this paragraph, it says ‘The Keeper of the Key.’”

“The Key?” Dawn asked. “But that’s me… Isn’t it? I mean, it has to be.” Buffy only nodded at her.

“Well, apparently, you have a Keeper.”

“That would be me, wouldn’t it?” Buffy asked.

“It says he,” Willow said. “in all the things about The Keeper.”

“There’s another clue,” Azrael spoke up. “It says here that he wasn’t created, he was chosen.”

“Everybody’s chosen but me,” Willow pouted.

“Don’t complain,” Buffy told her. “It’s not of the fun.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Who’s going to patrol tonight?”

“Giles.”

“Just Giles?”

“Yes,” Willow replied.

“Will, Angelus will tear him apart.

Azrael stood. “I’ve got a favor to call in,” she explained, leaving the room. Buffy looked after her knowingly.

*

Spike nervously made his way to answer the knock on his door.

Before him stood the Watcher. “Spike,” Giles said, nodding.

“Rupert.” He opened the door wide. “Come on in.” Giles did so, looking around with interest at the apartment. “Heard you wanted some help with Angelus.”

“We’d be grateful.”

“Well, didn’t do much good last time, but anything I can do.”

“You probably saved Buffy’s life, Spike.” He only shrugged. “And, as usual, I haven’t been filled in. How the bloody hell are you back?”

“Long story.”

“And you’ve been in Los Angeles the entire time?”

“Yeah,” Spike replied, grabbing his duster. “And don’t go any further than that, I’ve heard enough lately from Sophie.”

“She’s staying here, I was told.”

“Yeah. She’s weak, and it’s my fault. Got to take care of her.” He looked to Giles, eyebrows raised. “Let’s get on with this, then.”

*

Trisha walked down the midnight street, breathing in the fresh air. She knew it was dangerous to be out, but she was claustrophobic, and another hour in that house would have made her scream. Staci’s Justin Timberlake CD had been playing non-stop for the past eight hours, and she just couldn’t take it anymore.

She felt for the stake in her pocket, assuring herself it was still there. She’d seen a vampire before, but fighting one… she couldn’t imagine. She tried to push the thought away, walking faster.

*

“Taking a lot of notes over there,” Azrael commented, looking to Willow. Dawn had long ago given up to go to bed, and Willow had forced Buffy to. Sophie had left over an hour before.

“I think I’m getting somewhere.”

“Well, don’t leave me hanging.”

“Okay, listen to this. ‘After the Keeper has been restored, the Damned shall be set free. The Key shall open the door to bring back the Righteous One.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“No, it doesn’t. Using the Key… I don’t know if Buffy would do it.”

“Maybe it doesn’t need to be done. We’re not even halfway through this stuff.”

“I won’t tell her anything until we’re sure,” Willow said. “I’d really like to figure this Keeper thing out, though.”

“You’re not alone.”

The girls returned to their reading.

*

Giles and Spike had been patrolling for nearly two hours, when Spike took a sudden left turn. Giles quickened his pace to keep up. “What is it?” he asked.

“Blood. I smell it.” The two of them reached the end of the alley, staring at the body. “Know her?” the vampire asked softly.

“She was a slayer,” Giles replied, putting his hand to temples. “Trisha was her name. God.”

Spike turned, looking at him seriously. “Get home to them. This is pointless. All Angelus wants is the slayers, and if they’re not being watched, he’s going to get his hands on them.”

“They were told not to leave.”

“Well, obviously, they aren’t listening. Look, I’ll walk you, just in case.”

Nothing was said on the way to the Council, until Spike stopped, looking at the old hotel. “I’ll wait until you get inside,” he told Giles.

“You won’t come in?”

“No,” he replied, not meeting the watcher’s eyes.

*

Dawn had been up for a glass of water when she heard Giles enter through the door. Quickly, she ran to the window, catching just a glimpse of blond hair before it disappeared into the darkness. She looked down at her pajamas and fuzzy house shoes, then glanced over her shoulder. No one was watching. Setting her glass of water down, she crept out the door.

*

Spike had barely been home for five minutes, when he heard the key in the lock, and Sophie walked in. “Been at Buffy’s?” he asked.

“Yeah. Had to stop to get something to eat, too,” she said, lifting the brown paper bag in her hand.

“I guess you weren’t there when Giles got back.” His childe shook her head. “Angelus killed one of them tonight.”

“God… Buffy’s going to blame herself.”

“She does every chance she gets.”

Sophie nodding before looking around awkwardly. “Well, I’m gonna go to bed.”

Spike left the couch, grabbing Sophie’s wrist. She turned to face him, her eyes fearful. “Look, I know I’ve been a right jerk lately.” Her eyes softened slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said, unable to restrain her small smile of relief. “But I really am tired.”

After Sophie was tucked in, Spike settled on his couch with a book, his attempt to tune reality out for awhile. It hadn’t been five minutes when he heard his doorknob turn. He figured it was the winger, and didn’t look up until something smacked him forcefully on the top of his head. “Ow!” he shouted, looking up to see Dawn glaring down at him. He rubbed his skull, looking at her as the shock overcame him. Dawn was in his apartment. He didn’t know whether to yell at her for being out after dark, or cry just to be seeing her again. She was more beautiful than he remembered, even with the hateful look on her face. “What did you do that for?” he whined as he stood up.

“You’re an idiot,” she replied, crossing her arms. Her stern expression melted instantly, however, and she was suddenly in his arms, sobbing. He closed his eyes as he embraced her tightly, ignoring the weak punches she delivered to his chest.

She cried for what seemed like forever, exhausting herself but not letting him go, though she wouldn’t stop hitting him, either. “I hate you,” she whimpered.

“I know, Bit,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“If you were sorry you would have come back!” She pulled away from him, wiping her eyes. “But no, you’ve been here, hiding from us.”

Spike couldn’t stand to see her like this, and cupped her face in his hand, thumbing the remaining tears away before leaning in to plant a soft kiss on her forehead. That seemed to break her and she was suddenly holding onto him tightly again. “I missed you,” she cried, and he shut his eyes tightly to stop his own tears.

“Missed you too, pet.” Minutes later, there was a Summers woman passed out on the couch, which presented a problem. It was only an hour until sunrise, and he had to get her home. Buffy was probably worried sick.

He leaned over to the coffee table, grabbing his cell phone and dialing Azrael.

“Hello?”

“Winger.”

“Spike. Would there happen to be a tall blond at your place?”

“That there would. You don’t sound too worried.”

“Well, no one noticed she was gone until five minutes ago.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t sound like much of a command central, if you ask me.”

“Don’t complain if you’re not going to help.” That struck him harder than a fist, but he didn’t reply. She was right. “Look, Buffy’s asleep, and Willow and I are up to our ears in prophecy. We think we might be getting somewhere. Think maybe Dawn could stay over at your place?”

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah. You can bring her back after dark tonight. No one will mind.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Sure. Guess so.”

“Thanks. Bye!”

He hung up, shaking his head in wonder before getting up to hunt some blankets down for the Bit.

Convinced

Buffy was in the kitchen that evening, making tea. The house had a morning feeling, however, with Willow and Azrael catching a nap in the library, and Giles shut up in his room. Xander was upstairs with the girls, trying to comfort them, and she felt bad that he’d been the only one left to do the job.

She was startled by the ringing of the phone. “Council,” she answered before taking a sip of her tea.

Spike bit his lip. He hadn’t expected her to answer, hadn’t even thought of it. “Hello?” she said, and he hung his head. He couldn’t do this.

There was a long pause before she spoke again. “Spike?” Her tone was so soft and fragile; it killed him. “Spike, is that you?”

“Yeah, love,” he managed to say. He heard her strangled gasp. “I called… to tell you that I’m bringing Dawn home.”

“Am I going to see you?” she asked, her voice barely even a whisper.

There was a long silence before he replied, his voice just as weak. “Don’t know if I can do that, love.”

Pain tore through her, and she couldn’t mask the sob that escaped her throat. “God, Buffy, please don’t,” he pleaded with a shaking voice, but she couldn’t answer. “I’ll get her home,” he said quickly, hanging up. Buffy collapsed into a kitchen chair.

*

Spike stared down at his phone, wanting to throw it at the nearest wall and smash it to pieces, since he couldn’t do the same to himself. Why couldn’t he just go to her, if she needed him so badly? Before the past week, it had been because he didn’t want to complicate her life. She had moved on, and had never needed him. But it seemed the destruction of Sunnydale hadn’t changed her life much at all.

But now, every time he thought of her, he imagined her on the ground, with Sophie next to her, could still hear the faint, unsteady beat of her heart, could smell Angel all over her. All he could think of was the bathroom. If she hadn’t been the Slayer, he would have easily killed her that night. He probably would have killed himself right after, but that didn’t make him feel any better.

He knew she’d forgiven him, that had happened a long time ago. But she would never forget, especially now, and neither would he.

“Spike?” He looked up to see Sophie’s vague form through the veil of his tears. “Is everything alright?”

“No, it’s all fucked,” he replied in a dead tone. “Could you walk the Bit home?”

“Sure.”

Spike shook Dawn awake. “Nibblet, Sophie’s gonna walk you home.”

“You’re not coming?” she asked as she sat up. He averted his eyes, and she gave him that hateful glare again.

“Dawn, I can’t.”

“No. You just won’t.” She left the couch, going to Sophie. “I know why, Spike, and it’s a stupid reason,” she continued. “Really, really dumb.”

“Don’t talk about what you don’t understand,” he warned.

She was unaffected. “What don’t I understand? You almost raped Buffy.” He flinched. “You ran off and left her, you got a stupid soul, and you came back and saved the world. But she forgave you before you saved the world, and don’t think I don’t know what happened to Buffy, because I do. Getting your blood sucked out doesn’t make you walk funny. I know what Angelus did to her. Spike, she’s not going to look at you and think of that. She loves you.”

“Don’t.”

“Shut up. She does, and when you died she lost any chance of ever letting you know. She’s loved you longer than I’ve even been around, probably. But telling everyone after you died, what would that do? It wouldn’t bring you back, and it’d just make everything harder on her. Ever since we got here, she’s gone out alone. I found her once, and do you know what she was doing? Sitting in a crypt, smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey. That was the only time she ever even got close to admitting it. She told me you didn’t have a grave to visit, so she made one.” Spike couldn’t believe her words, but she didn’t stop there. “She said you wouldn’t have wanted a funeral, or flowers, and she’s probably right. But I still catch her smoking. I smell it coming out of her room at night. Spike, if you don’t walk me home, I’m going to show up here first thing in the morning with a bag of stakes, and I’m going to play darts.” He stared at her in shock, a surprised laugh coming out of him, but she was as serious as ever. “I’m not joking. Quit feeling sorry for yourself long enough to make her feel better. Even if it’s just for a minute. Just let her see you.”

“What about the others, Bit? Think they’d all fancy me walking up into your little headquarters?”

“Do you think either of us give a damn? She sure as hell won’t, and I know I couldn’t care less. You’re family, whether you like it or not. You were there.” She didn’t have to explain the last statement to him. “I know she was ashamed of you before, and I know she drove you crazy. I hated her for that. But she’s changed. I know it.”

Spike sighed, knowing he couldn’t win. Not with those two sets of huge blue eyes staring at him. “Alright,” he sighed. “Let’s get you home.”

*

Buffy was in the kitchen, making coffee when she heard the front door open. She walked through the dining room and into the lobby to see Dawn. “Make it home okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Dawn replied quietly. “There’s someone outside. They want to see you.”

“What?” Dawn didn’t reply, only headed to the staircase. Breathless, Buffy went to the window, looking out into the darkness.

He stood across the street, under the shadow of a large tree, but she could see the hem of his duster, his boots, and the smoke from his cigarette. Fighting dizziness, she opened the door, going outside.

Spike froze at the sound of the opening door. A hundred emotions swept through him as he watched her approach. On the surface was a deep desire to find Angel and finish what he had started; he could smell her pain, and could also see the remnants of burns and scratches on her exposed flesh.

There was also shattering love, threatening to consume him. She hadn’t been expecting him, and wore only a tank top and sweat pants. Her hair was in a disheveled ponytail, and her face was red and tearstained.

He’d never seen anything more beautiful.

She shivered slightly, and he realized it had gotten cold. Without thinking, he cut the distance between them wrapping her arms around her to shield her from the chill in the air. Then, he actually realized he was holding her again for the first time in months. The overwhelming scent of her, the feel of her silky hair against his chin, and there were her hands, roaming all over his chest and back underneath his duster. Nothing sexual about it. He knew she was proving to herself that he was real.

Buffy sank against him, feeling the contoured muscle beneath his thin shirt, taking in the smell of leather and smoke, and the earthiness that was all his own. She never wanted to move again, just wanted to crawl into his duster and stay next to him forever. “God, where have you been?” she heard herself whispering.

“Nowhere important, love,” he replied in a shaking voice.

She looked up at him, her hands coming up to hold his face before her fingers combed through his hair. Frantic to touch every part of him again, to reclaim him somehow.

His eyes were terrified.

Reluctantly, she pulled away enough to give him some space. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

He shook his head, pulling her close again. “Don’t be,” he told her.

They stood in the middle of the empty street for what seemed like an eternity to Buffy, not speaking, just familiarizing themselves once again with one another.

Spike was the first to speak. “Car’s coming,” he told her.

She looked up, and indeed, there were headlights approaching. She reluctantly stepped away and they went to the sidewalk. “I guess you wouldn’t want to come in.” He looked fearfully at the building. “I mean, we don’t have to go inside, we could go somewhere else, anywhere,” she stammered.

He smiled softly before running a finger down the side of her face. “Sounds good. I’ll wait out here.”

“Wait for what?”

“You’re freezing,” he told her. “Get something warm on.”

*

Buffy was confused as Spike led her into the building and to the elevator. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“My place,” he told her.

He unlocked the door and opened it for her and she looked around in disbelief as she stepped inside. Not just a place, but a nice one.

The living room’s walls were a deep ecru, and the north wall was nothing but a huge plate of glass, revealing the city lights below. The furniture had a very expensive look to it, with scrolls and detailed etched into the dark wood. There was also a massive television on the wall. “This is nice,” she commented, feeling stupid. Nice?

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know what else to do with the money.”

She turned toward him. “You’ve really been working for… him?”

He dropped his eyes in shame. “Yeah. But that’s over now.”

“But what are you going to do?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied, meeting her gaze, and she noticed the muscle of his jaw twitch. “If I see him again, I’ll kill him. Won’t think twice.”

“You know, I’m not sure it would bother me,” she managed to say, trying to say something logical, passive, so the tears wouldn’t come again. She didn’t want to feel those hands on her, didn’t want to feel her life slipping away.

Spike could tell she was on the edge, her eyes lost as they looked to the floor. Cautiously, he laid a hand on her shoulder. “Didn’t mean to bring it up,” he apologized.

“No,” she said, pulling herself up to her full height as she took a deep breath. “I can’t run from it. I just…” Her lips pressed together and he saw her eyes swimming. Before she could say another word, he pulled her close, just as a strangled sob escaped her. The sound broke him in two.

“Go ahead, love,” he whispered, his lips grazing her ear. “Let it out, ‘s’alright.” She shook in his embrace, soaking the front of his shirt as she gripped him tightly, and he couldn’t help but wonder how he could possibly be the one she was letting comfort her.

Her tears tapered off after a long while, but she didn’t release him. Her hands began to roam as before, up his chest, across his back, over his shoulders, and she turned her face up to look at him, her look of anguish being replaced with wonder. “I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here,” she told him. “There’s just so… much.”

“So much what, pet?”

“I had so many things I wanted to tell you. They would play through my head at night, and they sounded so right. But when I saw you, I forgot everything.”

He planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“But I do!” she cried softly, her voice full of emotion, and her tears started again. He’d never thought he’d see or hear so much weeping in one night, especially not over himself.

Buffy pulled away, wiping at her eyes. “There’s so much I want to say, I don’t even know how to start. I never thought I’d actually have the chance.”

“Well, guess you can thank Azrael for that one.” He ran his hand down her arm before he walked to the coffee table for his cigarettes. He lit one, sitting on the couch, and she joined him.

“So, she brought you back? I mean, who is she?”

“An angel,” he replied, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “Literally.”

“She let me in on that, but sure doesn’t look like an angel,” Buffy commented, which caused Spike to laugh.

“Yeah, she’s a bad ‘un.”

“So, you’re… friends?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. She’s a bit too busy for my taste most of the time, though.” He exhaled smoke, looking out the window.

He heard the doorknob turn and he and Buffy both looked over to see Sophie walk in, a look of surprise on her face. “Oh, wow. Hey!” she greeted the two as she stepped in.

“Hey,” Buffy replied.

Sophie looked to Spike. “Should I, um, go?”

Spike looked to Buffy, who shook her head. “I’m fine,” she assured him.

“Looks like a party, then,” he announced with a lift of his brow. Sophie smiled, disappearing into the kitchen. “Oh, God,” he cried. “Don’t cook!”

“What are you talking about?” Buffy asked.

“She didn’t know she could eat food. Ever since she started staying here, she’s been stinking the kitchen up with all that Cajun mess she eats.”

“I heard that!” Sophie called, and Spike could hear the happiness in her voice that Buffy was there.

Wanting

Azrael flipped back the page on her legal pad to start writing on a fresh one. She didn’t like where this was going, and by the look on Willow’s face, the witch didn’t either.

“So, we’re positive that Dawn is the only one that can get Angel’s soul back?” she asked.

“Nearly positive,” Azrael said, “but only with her Keeper, and we still don’t know who that is.”

“I bet I do.” Both girls turned to see Dawn in the doorway.

“Dawnie, you shouldn’t be here,” Willow told her.

“Why not? This is about me, do you really think you can hide it?” She neared the table, picking up one of the legal pads. “Where are the notes on the Keeper?”

“On this one,” Azrael said, handing her a different pad.

Dawn scanned the page. “Restored, chosen and not created… Yeah, I know who it is.”

“But how can you?” Willow asked.

“I guess I can because I was there. The Keeper is Spike.”

“What?”

“Come on, Will. Who promised to always take care of me? Wouldn’t that be the same as ‘keeping?’ And he was restored, right Azrael?” The angel nodded. “So, what would we have to do?”

“Dawn, Buffy won’t let this happen. She’ll kill Angelus first,” Willow told her.

“What is it?” Dawn asked, taking a seat.

“We’re not completely sure yet,” Azrael said, “but using the Key requires blood. We do know that. Once Glory used you, you couldn’t be used again by just anyone. After that, only the Keeper could.”

“So, if Spike draws blood, it will open the portal?”

Azrael scooted closer to the younger girl, pointing out a passage from the book. “Not exactly. See here? ‘The old and the new shall come together.’ I think you’d have to, well, mix your blood.”

“But… Spike’s blood isn’t really his, is it?” “I’m not sure, but I think that’s what it means.”

“This ritual will open any dimension of your choosing,” Willow told her. “You could find Angel’s soul. And if you did that, it wouldn’t be a curse anymore. He couldn’t lose it again.”

“So, why wouldn’t Buffy do that?” Dawn asked.

“Because, mixing your blood with the Keeper’s… it would give you access to your powers.”

“My powers?”

“Blood would no longer be required. You’d have control of all the Key’s powers.” Dawn looked confused. “We’re not sure, sweetie, but it seems like you could just sort of open dimensions whenever you wanted.”

“You’re right, Buffy would hate that.”

“Well, it would be dangerous.”

“I know.” She looked thoughtful. “And I don’t want to be the Key. But if I am, I’d like to at least have some control over it. I don’t really care about helping Angel, to be honest, but I know he has friends that miss him. I want to do it.”

“We’d have to ask Buffy,” Willow told her.

“And Spike, if he’s really the Keeper. I don’t know if he’d even consider it.”

“He’d do it for me,” Dawn said.

*

Buffy woke up just before sunrise, a soft smile on her lips at the feel of Spike’s finger on her arm. It took her a moment to realize that he was tracing words on her skin.

Princess…
Beauty…
Love you…

She opened her eyes to see him concentrating on his work. He didn’t realize she was awake until she shifted.

Spike knew the look in Buffy’s eyes, but still wasn’t prepared for the tender kiss she gave him.

She drew away, noticing the shocked expression on his face, and felt crushed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close, stopping her apology with a much hungrier kiss of his own.

She sighed as he gently pushed her back onto the mattress, his lips never leaving hers. She wanted him to touch her, but his hand only trailed up and down her arm, and his kisses remained soft.

He finally pulled away, looking down at her with wonder. “Don’t stop,” she whispered.

“Have to, pet. If I don’t know, I won’t want to, and you’re…” He looked away. “Hurt.”

“Not that hurt,” she argued.

“No,” he replied firmly.

She licked her lips. “It’s not just because of that, is it?” The way his lips twisted answered her question, and she pulled his head down to rest on her chest, not knowing what to say. Of course it was on his mind, how could it not be? “Spike, please don’t,” she pleaded. “It wasn’t the same, not at all.”

“What bloody difference does that make?” he asked, rolling away from her. “Would’ve had the same result.”

Afraid he would push her away, she carefully laid a hand on his arm, wishing he would face her again. She felt his fingers entwine with hers. “Can’t see why you’d want to be around me,” he confessed.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with it! Spike, what Angelus did to me was out of cruelty; he just wanted to hurt me. I almost died.” She didn’t want to finish, but knew she had to. “When you came to me that night, were you honestly wanting to kill me?”

He turned around, his eyes on fire. “No!”

“What did you want, then?”

“I just… wanted you to love me.” The pain in his expression was heartbreaking. “Convinced myself you did, and it drove me mad when you wouldn’t admit it.”

((Now?))
((No, no, not yet, not ready.))

“I know all that,” she told him. “That’s why I’m here. Because you love me, and I feel safe here.”

“You are safe here.” She snuggled close to him, and he kissed the top of her head.

He was almost asleep when she squeezed him tightly. “I missed this.”

He opened one eye. “What, my naked body?” he joked, and caught her hand as she slapped at him playfully.

“I’m so not answering that.” She took a deep breath. “No. I missed being held.” His hand left her hair to gently caress her arm.

“Shouldn’t have been too hard to find someone for that.”

She sat up on her elbow. “I meant by you,” she explained before shifting to lay across his chest and stare at him. “You know, in a way, it’s like you were never gone, but I know if you hadn’t been, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” He was shocked at her honesty, but tried not to show it. “I still have a lot to say,” she continued. “But… can you be patient with me? It’s hard.”

“’Course I can.” His hand rubbed small circles on the flesh of her back, making her sigh in content.

“Can we sleep more?” she whispered.

“Anything you want, love.”

*

The were awakened that afternoon by a knock on the door. “Yeah?” Spike called and Sophie appeared, holding the phone. “For Buffy,” she said before disappearing again.

Spike shook Buffy awake, handing her the cordless. “Hello?” she said sleepily. She seemed to listen for a long while, her brow furrowing. “Yeah, we’ll be there. Okay.” She hung up. “We have to go to the Council. They found out how to get Angel’s soul, but Will says it’s not easy, and that you have something to do with it.”

“Me?”