Sympathy for the Devil
by ComedyofErrors

Rating: NC-17 (Violence, Torture, Language)

Disclaimer: Still do not own these characters.

 

Chapter 16

Giles stared at his watch. The half hour he'd promised Tara was nearly up and he couldn't have been more glad. He knew it was a foolish thought, but he couldn't help the notion that every moment Buffy spent in Spike's head drained a little of her own connection with reality. Could Spike shape her thoughts during her excursion into his mind? Suspecting as he did where Spike's thoughts on Buffy tended toward of late, the concept frightened him beyond words.

"Relax, Giles," Willow said suddenly.

He jerked his head up, surprised by her comment. "Pardon?"

She smiled at him. "If you keep staring at your watch like that, you're going to melt it. It's just five more minutes. Nothing's going to go wrong."

Giles shook his head. "Optimism has never been my forte. Not with my slayer inside a vampire's head, said vampire's sire outside mumbling at the stars, and a glarghk guhl kashma'nik tethered to a tombstone a few yards away."

Willow frowned. "Okay, yes, all good reasons to be worried. But I just don't want you to give yourself a heart attack or something. Deep breaths don't hurt anyone."

He sighed. "I give you my word, Willow, I'll relax when I feel that Buffy is safe. When ever that may be," he finished with a glance at Spike.

Confused by his tone, Willow prepared to ask Giles what he meant. She was interrupted by a soft call from Tara, who was pointing at the seated slayer and vampire. To her surprise, Willow saw that Buffy's eyes were open.

Giles followed Willow's line of sight. Immediately, both witch and watcher headed for the slayer.

________________________________________________________________________

It was hard to say what did it. Perhaps the sudden approach of Willow and Giles seemed aggressive to Spike. Or maybe everything is frightening to a coma victim waking from an interminable and difficult sleep. Whatever the reason, the expression of confusion and disorientation that Spike wore when he first woke transmuted an instant later into terror.

Too surprised to act, Buffy remained seated while Spike, in his rush to escape the humans only feet away from him, toppled over his arm chair and sprawled on the floor. He scrambled back, pressing himself against the stone wall of the crypt as he edged toward a trap door in the ground. It would have been funny, Buffy thought, if Spike hadn't been trembling in fear.

Buffy stood quickly, motioning for Giles and Willow to stay where they were, just behind her chair. A brief look around showed that Tara was in the back of the crypt, but Buffy trusted her to stay still without a reminder. Spike looked wildly between the four occupants of the crypt, finally settling his eyes on Buffy, who was nearest. She couldn't tell whether or not he recognized her; his wide eyes expressed only panic. Quietly, she called to him. "Spike?"

He flinched, but didn't flee. His head tilted to the side and his brow furrowed, as though he were trying to make sense of his situation. Buffy tried to help him. "It's Buffy, Spike. Do you remember us talking? Hmm? We talked about needing to wake up. We talked about how what you were seeing wasn't real."

His eyes flicked to her neck, as though searching for the phantom bite he'd placed there. He gave her a nervous nod when his eyes returned to her face. Buffy gave him an encouraging smile just as the crypt door opened, the groan of its hinges unmistakable. All heads turned toward the figure that entered.

Drusilla?

How Dru came to be here, now, Buffy hadn't a clue. Immediately Buffy's stance became defensive as she kept a wary eye on the advancing female vampire. Spike seemed just as surprised to see Drusilla as Buffy, so she supposed that he hadn't known his sire was in town.

Dru's eyes roved over the interior of the crypt as she entered, assessing the people inside. She lingered for a moment on Buffy, an expression of disdain crossing her pale face before her attention turned wholly to Spike. The smile she directed toward him was accompanied by the words, "Hello William. Mummy's come to fetch her boy. Say how glad you are to see Mummy."

Buffy waited for Spike to do something – to acknowledge Dru, to fight her, to run. But he stood shaking and bewildered until his sire was within ten feet of him. Then his fear of Dru, perhaps prompted by the horrific memories he'd been reliving, forced Spike into game face. He growled low and lifted his hands from the wall, clenching them sporadically into fists.

That was the only prompt Buffy needed from Spike to go for Dru. Her hand moved to the small of her back, withdrawing her ever-present stake. She brought her arm forward, twirling the weapon to the proper position. She maneuvered cautiously, trying to slip past Spike's overturned chair when a hand grasped her wrist. She whirled to see who had halted her. It was Giles, his face intense as he looked from Buffy to Drusilla and Spike, shaking his head.

Buffy realized that he wasn't shocked to see Dru. He'd known she was here. Not just in Sunnydale, but at Spike's crypt, right this moment. Buffy couldn't fathom what had happened to make Dru's presence tolerable, but clearly the drama she had witnessed in Spike's head was not the only one that had unfolded tonight. She flashed Giles a puzzled expression as Drusilla began moving toward her childe once more, but Giles shook his head again, mouthing the word 'later' as he released her arm.

Buffy turned her attention back to the two vampires. Dru was cooing softly. "Now, now, my Spike, time to come with mummy. We've been napping long enough, darling. Time to wake up and go home."

Buffy's grip tightened on her stake. Dru was less than five feet from Spike, who'd reached the nearest corner and still gazed fearfully at his sire through yellow eyes. Buffy wanted to go to him, to put herself between him and the female vampire, both because of his horror at facing Dru and the irritation she felt at Dru's words. His sire had no claim on Spike now. He didn't belong to Dru.

Buffy prepared to disobey Giles, tensing to strike, but she was saved the trouble by Spike himself. As Dru reached out her hand toward his face, Spike roared and struck clumsily at her extended arm, forcing it back. He crouched slightly, ready to spring, while he continued to snarl at a stunned Drusilla.

Dru backed slowly away from Spike, keeping her eyes on him alone. She shook her head and murmured to herself. "Poor Spike...so lost. Even I can't help you now." Buffy watched Dru exit the door of the crypt, but she couldn't be bothered to give chase. She needed to help Spike.

Buffy laid her stake on the chair beside her, and ignoring a sound of protest from Giles, gradually neared the vampire. He was panting heavily, equal parts frightened and angry. She stopped well back from Spike, giving him a moment to calm and to notice her. A wrong move might drive him to attack, triggering his chip, and she didn't want him to suffer anymore tonight.

It took a few seconds for him to turn his head from the direction in which Dru had disappeared to look at Buffy. He straightened from his fighting stance an inch at a time, still tense. "Spike..." she said softly. He cocked his head, listening. "I know this is confusing. But you're awake now. It's going to be okay."

His game face receded, watery blue eyes replacing gold. "Buffy?" he murmured urgently. "Is this real?"

She nodded. "Yes, Spike. It's real."

He started as Giles, no doubt worried by Buffy's nearness to the unnerved vampire, began moving toward them again. Buffy motioned forcefully for him to be still. The movement stopped, but Giles didn't look pleased. Spike swallowed, then lowered his eyes, and in a whisper confessed, "I'm scared."

Buffy took a few cautious steps nearer. The fear Spike was showing was so at odds with his vampire image that she couldn't help thinking that at this instant he was another person entirely. "I know, William. I know. We'll fix this." She glanced at the trap door by his feet. "You want to wait for me downstairs? I'll be down in a few minutes. I need to talk to Giles." Spike bit his lip and nodded. Buffy nodded with him, wanting to reassure him as she kneeled and carefully lifted the panel in the floor. As soon as there was enough space for him to drop through, he ducked down the passage.

Leaving the trap ajar, Buffy turned to face to her watcher and the agitated expression he directed at her. Buffy supposed he could have been annoyed by her recklessness in approaching Spike unarmed, but somehow she doubted it. Giles was perceptive. Maybe he'd already figured out from the way she'd been treating the vampire that she was drawn to Spike.

Now wasn't the time to address Giles's worries about her love life, though. Slayer and watcher both knew that business came first, lectures came second. Spike was the priority right now. "Giles, Spike got stung by a demon right before he went into the coma. I think it-"

"Poisoned him, yes. We discovered that and acted accordingly." Giles turned her attention to a small cauldron set-up in the crypt's living room area. "Willow and Tara have an antidote prepared. We were about to bring you out of Spike's mind so that we could administer it when you emerged on your own. With Spike. Or William," he said with a raised brow.

Buffy ignored the insinuation with which Giles spoke that name. "Give me the stuff. I'll take it to him." Off to the side, Tara began ladling a bluish liquid into a cracked mug. Buffy sighed. "What time is it?"

"A bit after nine. You've been in there about four hours," Giles replied.

Buffy shook her head. "It felt longer."

Willow brought the antidote forward and handed it to Buffy. "Here we go, yummy antivenin."

Buffy sniffed the contents and wrinkled her nose at the smell. "I'm supposed to get Spike to drink this?"

Willow gave her a sympathetic nod. "Yep. Just be glad he doesn't know what the ingredient list was."

Buffy smiled tiredly at Willow and Giles. Willow smiled back. Giles didn't. "Listen, guys, I can't tell you how grateful I am for everything you've done, but it's getting late. It'd probably be best if you got out of the cemetery and away to somewhere safe. Especially with Dru out there."

"She's probably gone, since her mission's failed," Giles murmured. "But that's likely a wise precaution, in any event."

"You might be able to calm S-spike down better if w-we're gone, too," Tara said quietly as she came to stand beside Willow.

The redhead put an arm around her girlfriend. "We'll just get our stuff together and head out. Xander's outside guarding the demon-"

Buffy's eyes widened. "Demon?"

Willow nodded. "We needed the demon that stung Spike to complete the antidote, so Giles and Drusilla went out and caught it."

Buffy glanced at Giles. He gave a tired shrug of acknowledgment. "Well, that's...um, you know, I honestly don't know what to say to that."

"So anyway," Willow continued, "Xander can give us a ride home after we get rid of the glar guhl...big scary demon thing."

"I'd better go do that 'slaying thing' on whatever it is," Buffy commented.

Tara shook her head. "I think S-spike's condition is m-more urgent. Xander and Giles can d-deal with the d-demon."

"Yeah, Buffy," Willow agreed, "None of us will be able to get Spike to drink that stuff. Oh, there's more potion, if you need it, but one dose should be plenty. Good luck."

"Good night, Buffy," Tara added.

"Night guys. Thanks for everything." The witches moved off to gather their things.

Giles remained a bit longer. "How long do you plan to stay here, Buffy?" His tone suggested more than casual concern.

Buffy sighed. "As long as it takes to make sure Spike's alright. Then I need to go home and check in with Mom and Dawnie. They were pretty worried about Spike."

Giles nodded once, then spoke again. "After you've done that, I'd like you to stop by my flat. I think we should talk."

She could see it in his eyes. He did know that things had changed between Buffy and Spike, even if he wasn't sure of the exact nature of the new relationship. Hell, Buffy didn't know herself. She sighed. "Okay. I'll tell you about Buffy's Adventures in Spike-land and you can tell me why Drusilla decided to vacation in Sunnyhell."

He still didn't smile at her attempted humor. He didn't even shake his head and mumble about her punning ability. Buffy wasn't looking forward to the conversation they'd be having later tonight. "I'll see you if a few hours, then," he returned.

"Yeah." He turned to leave. "Giles?"

"Yes, Buffy?"

"Thank you. For keeping things together out here." She gave him another, tentative smile.

Giles's reply was simple, "You're welcome, Buffy. I can hardly expect you to be in two places at one."

It was a joke. A very British joke, but still a joke, so that was good. And yet his face remained closed, as though the humor was a reflex, not a sincere wish to be witty. "Har, har," Buffy snorted to herself as Giles exited the crypt.

Buffy took a few deep breaths and listened to the sudden quiet in the tomb. She felt wiped out from the hectic fifteen minutes since she and Spike had returned to the real world, but her night was far from over. She made her way to the trap door and carefully descended to the basement level, mindful of the glass of blue stinky stuff that was going to cure Spike.

It was dark when she reached the lower platform, only the light from the room above breaking through the gloom. "Spike?" she called quietly. He didn't answer, and for a brief moment Buffy feared that he had slipped back into the sleep she'd just rescued him from. Then, as her eyes became more accustomed to the low light, she saw a pale face and bright hair a few yards away.

He was sitting on a coffin, staring at the ground. A mattress covered in threadbare blankets and pinkish sheets sat on the ground behind his make-shift chair. On another coffin to one side of the mattress, Buffy could see the remains of several burned out candles and torn paper back books. It was a humble place for William the Bloody to sleep. Buffy thought briefly of taking him away somewhere more comfortable after she'd given him the antidote, but he seemed at ease here. It was home, for him.

She sat down beside him on the coffin, but still he didn't look at her. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he didn't pull away. "I need you to drink this, Sp- Will." He raised his eyes to look at the glass she held out to him. He sniffed once and turned his nose up at the concoction that must have smelled worse to vampire senses than to human ones. "Yeah, I know. But you need this to keep the memories away."

His head jerked up and a ghost of the fear he'd worn earlier flickered through his eyes. Buffy rubbed her hand on his back, trying to give the comfort he'd been unable to receive while they were in his mind. "Please Will," she pleaded. "Trust me here." Her heart clenched as one shaky hand reached out to wrap around the cup. Afraid he'd drop the mug, Buffy helped him bring it to his lips and poured it gently into his mouth. He swallowed it, though his face contorted at the bitter taste.

Buffy set the now empty glass aside and stood. She moved before Spike, holding her hands out to draw him to a standing position. He followed her directions without question as she led him to his bed and motioned for him to lay down on it. He curled up on his side, drawing his knees up like a child. Buffy pulled a worn comforter over him and ran a hand over the side of his face. He gave her a questioning look, wide eyes wondering and fearful.

Buffy let herself lean forward and press a kiss to the cheek she'd been stroking. His breath caught as she pulled back, his expression now awestruck. She rubbed his shoulder again, tenderly. "I'm going to see if I can find some new candles, Spike. Just rest here."

He nodded in understanding. Buffy rose from her crouch and moved to a small alcove beneath the ladder. She'd seen some boxes of some kind over that way. When she reached the spot she saw not just boxes, but a sheet thrown over a table that might have supplies under it. She grasped the sheet firmly and pulled it down.

She gasped at what she saw laid out before her.

*****

Please let me know what you think! Thanks to my beta Linda.

Chapter 17

Shrine.

That was the only word that described the sight revealed as the sheet fluttered to the ground, forgotten. Buffy's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a shocked cry as hundreds of images of her own face stared back at her. Photos. Sketches. A dummy wearing a wig and what looked like the cashmere sweater she'd accused Dawn of stealing. And then there was the underwear. Thongs. A camisole or two. Socks? Even a pair of shoes that she remembered throwing out because they were too slimed to salvage.

The table was littered with clothing, while the pictures had been pinned to an old message board resting against the wall. Intermingled with the images she could see papers that looked suspiciously like poetry. It was overwhelming to see herself displayed like that. The eyes of the dummy followed her as her gaze roved over the spectacle.

He'd made it from her things, trying to get close to her in the only way he could. He'd stolen, scavenged, and built a monument to her because he was in love with her and couldn't have her. God. Spike didn't love half-way, did he? For him love came with obsession and adoration. When he fell, he fell hard. That's why his worst memories were of rejection. Cecily, Dru, Buffy.

She had to force herself to see this collection in that light. It wasn't because he wanted to harm her, or was stalking her out of malice. She believed that, truly. But it was going to take time for her to get used to the strength with which Spike felt for her. She wasn't anywhere near as taken with him. She couldn't even pretend to make light of his feelings, if this was what he did to stay sane when he couldn't be with her. Any joking on her part would hurt him.

It still disturbed her that Spike would do this; it wasn't sane human behavior. But that was the point, wasn't it? The reason Giles was freaking and the reason Riley told Spike he didn't have a chance with her. Spike was a vampire. Buffy couldn't expect him to act exactly like a human being. She would either have to learn to deal with Spike's demon nature or learn to live without him.

Being with Spike wasn't going to be easy. Buffy saw that now with a clarity that her tentative thoughts about a relationship with Spike had lacked when she first formed them. She'd known there would be problems getting acceptance from the others, but she hadn't thought that she and Spike could be obstacles to each other. She should have, given her dating history. But insight wasn't usually her thing.

Buffy's hands shook. She was supposed to be finding candles, getting some light for the traumatized vampire. But she couldn't deal with him while this...altar was behind her. She grabbed the most offensive item, the dummy, and ripped the shirt over its head. She grabbed an empty box and tossed the sweater inside. She tore the pictures and drawings off the backboard, shoving them into the box as well. More clothing, more paper, all of it.

She clapped a lid firmly over the top and breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't feel so exposed, now. She found the candles she'd been looking for, set them atop the surprisingly light box of trinkets and paper, and walked back to the bed. She set the box down on a coffin and set the candles up. Next to the melted wax of the previous lights there was a bent book of matches. She struck one, and soon the lower crypt was illuminated by the soft glow of the candles.

Kneeling next to the mattress, Buffy noticed that Spike's tired, hooded eyes were focused on her. She could imagine what his thoughts had been as he listened to her destroying his shrine. Building that was the kind of thing she would have slayed him for yesterday, helpless as he was.

Right now, Spike looked as exhausted as Buffy felt, and that impression was strengthened by the obvious worry lining his face. Lips pursed, he spoke in a weary tone. "If you're gonna yell at me, go ahead. Hit me, if you want."

He seemed resigned to whatever punishment she would devise, obviously too worn to protest. "I'm not going to yell at you. Or hit you." Buffy sighed. "I'm going to take this stuff back home. I'd appreciate it if you didn't steal it again."

"I won't." He frowned. "Figured you'd be angrier than this, way you were goin' at the stuff." His expression penitent, he whispered, "Didn't mean for you to see it."

Buffy shook her head slowly, trying to put words to her thoughts. "I'm not angry. Weirded out, yeah. But after a few hours watching you from the inside out, I think I understand why you did it."

One slow nod answered her. Eyes unfocused as he stared up into the darkness, searching for the answer to some unknown question, Spike mumbled, "Suppose you remember what I told you when you were knockin' around in my head, tryin' to wake me up."

Buffy remembered. She remembered his anguished voice as he half sobbed his love to her. As he agreed to trust her for the very first time. "Um-hmm."

He turned his head on the pillow to meet her eyes. "So you know, then, that I love you."

He said it quietly, without hesitation. Buffy gave him a shy smile. "Yeah, kinda got that."

"Still don't want to hit me?" he asked uncertainly.

It hurt that he had to ask that, though Buffy knew that would have been her response to his heartfelt confession, had she not grown acquainted with the person Spike was beneath the bluster. Through that same new understanding of him, she understood that the fear he felt now was not of being hit, or even dusted, but of being rejected. Of the words 'beneath me'. So with a shake of her head she said simply, "Nope."

A puzzled expression drifted across his face. Spike licked his lips and asked softly, "Do you...would you, I mean...like to kiss me, then?" He broke off into a sheepish yawn, then watched her with soft, expectant eyes.

Buffy smiled as she laid her palm against his cheek, lightly stroking the bone with her thumb. He leaned into her touch, breathing her scent in deeply. "Maybe later. Right now, you need to rest. And I need to run home, then go and convince my watcher than I'm not crazy."

His eyes widened, blue and scared as they had been on that beach long ago when he was a little boy. He swallowed, not quite successful at keeping the anxiety out of his voice as he asked, "You're leavin'?"

Her fingers trailed up over his ear, running through his gelled hair. "I have to. But if you want, I'll come back after I'm done."

She saw Spike's hesitation, perhaps because he feared to admit just how unnerved the memories he'd relived had made him. How much he needed to know that he wasn't alone as he had been in them. In the end, he nodded.

Buffy petted his face a moment longer, until he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Then she stood and lifted the cardboard holding the remains of Spike's idol of Buffy worship. She paused, considering the weight of pictures and drawings inside. With one hand she reached inside and pulled out a random image of herself. She was smiling at the camera, looking much happier than she'd felt in a long time.

She closed the box and set the picture on the bed, next to Spike's hand. As she climbed up the ladder, box under one arm, Buffy saw his fingers curl around the likeness of her.

________________________________________________________________________

"Buffy?"

Buffy propped the front door open as she maneuvered her box-o-stuff-taken-by-Spike through. "Yep, it's me." Buffy set the box down on the stairway and turned toward the living room and the sound of her mother's voice.

Her mom, dressed in her nightgown and robe, was seated on the sofa beside a pajama-ed Dawn. A bowl of popcorn sat on Dawn's lap while The Princess Bride played on the T.V., the colors of the oft watched video bleeding together. Buffy walked over and sat beside her mother, receiving a brief hug in greeting. Dawn was watching her with anticipation, no doubt waiting to hear the scoop on Spike. Joyce spoke first. "We were wondering where you'd gotten to." Her mom's arm settled around Buffy's shoulders. "How's Spike?"

Buffy was sure she could think of more difficult questions to answer, but that was a doozy. 'Fine' was the first thing that came to mind and the farthest from the truth, but the whole truth was too overwhelming to reveal to a fourteen year old and a recent tumor survivor. So something truthful, but not too honest was the response Buffy needed to deliver. "Awake. He got stung by a demon and the venom put him into a coma. Willow and Tara mixed up the antidote for him."

Dawn smiled in relief. "Great. I knew he'd be okay." Averting her eyes, Dawn asked nonchalantly, "Did you tell him I'm the one that found him?"

Her eyes rolled automatically at her sister's antics as their mother sighed. "No, I didn't. I will later, if you want."

Dawn shrugged, eyes on Fezzik. "If you want. Doesn't matter."

Buffy and her mother both suppressed a few laughs, before Joyce suggested, "Why don't you come in the kitchen, Buffy. I'll make you some tea."

Buffy suspected that tea wasn't the only thing on the menu, but to get away from Dawn's very wide and very impressionable ears, she said, "Sure," and followed her mother into the other room.

Joyce put some water on to boil and set out some bags of chamomile while Buffy supervised. "Honestly, Buffy, I can make tea without tiring myself out."

A nod from Buffy greeted her statement. "I know. But now you're going to sit down at the bar while I get the mugs."

"As you wish." Joyce gave a mock sigh of resignation and seated herself on a stool. "So, Buffy, how is William? Really."

A tired sigh that Buffy couldn't hold back escaped as she set the fruit patterned china on the cabinet. "He's doing better than he was."

"What was it you weren't willing to say in front of Dawn?" Joyce asked, keeping her eyes on Buffy's down turned face.

Her fingers drummed lightly on the counter as Buffy explained. It was a surprisingly quick retelling, what with the omission of all that emotion and pain on Spike's part and the guilt on Buffy's. She didn't pretend to believe that her mom didn't know Buffy was editing the story. Moms were good at that. "...so Dru's gone, Spike's better, and I have to go and talk with Giles then get back to Spike."

The tea pot whistled, and as Buffy poured out the heated water, her mother queried quietly, "Get back to Spike?"

Buffy's hands shook a little as she carried the mugs to the bar. With a nonchalance that reminded her of Dawn's behavior in the living room Buffy hedged, "Yep. He didn't want to be alone." Oh, that was smooth, Buffy. Sounds like you're going back there for clandestine activities of the naughty kind.

Her mom didn't comment on the phrasing, though. "I didn't realize you were on such good terms with William that you'd do him that kind of favor."

Buffy cradled her mug in her hands, staring at the little bubbles around the tea bag. "He's not so bad, once you get to know him."

"Well, being in someone's mind is a better way to get to know him than walking in his shoes." Joyce sipped her tea. "And if you and William become better friends, I think that's a good thing."

Her mouth twitched as Buffy asked, "What if, say, we got to be more than friends?"

A sigh from Joyce made Buffy look up. She never failed to be amazed at how many expressions her mother could wear simultaneously. There was acceptance, and whimsy, and love, and concern, all at once. Spike could do that, Buffy thought to herself. Joyce took another sip from her glass. "If the two of you become more than friends, then I suppose I could get used to the idea. But promise me you'll be careful. As much as I like him and believe in him, he's still a bit unpredictable. The two of you are destined for some pretty fierce arguments."

Buffy's brow furrowed. "Mom...I don't mean to pry, okay, maybe I do, but...was it worth it? All the arguing with Dad and the affairs and the divorce?"

Her mother's hand settled on Buffy's wrist, warm from the tea mug and firm. "I wouldn't change anything about my life, Buffy, except the way I treated you back then. You deserved my support, and I didn't often give it. I won't lie to you. Splitting up with your father was the most painful thing I've ever done. I loved him, and that just slowly went away.

"But I can still remember the good days. They were worth it. And my daughters will always be worth it. If you're asking me if the chance of getting hurt outweighs the benefits of being with someone...well, I'd say you know as much as I do." Joyce stared at the counter. "I know that you and Riley were never as close as that. But I seem to recall another vampire you liked. You never told me too much about Angel. But I got the impression you were in love with him."

Buffy nodded. "I was. Very much."

Joyce pressed gently, "And was it worth it? Loving him?"
 

"Yeah."

"Then there's your answer," Joyce removed her hand from Buffy's wrist.

Buffy stared at her mother for a moment, before coming forward quickly and giving her tight hug. Not slayer tight, but tight. "Thank you, Mom," she said with a quiet sob.

Joyce kissed her daughter's hair. "That's what moms are for, sweetie. Now go upstairs, get fixed up, and go talk to Mr. Giles. Dawn and I will see you tomorrow."

*****

Chapter 18

Buffy dressed for comfort. After all, she'd be sleeping in this stuff when she got back to the crypt. So she carefully tied on her jogging pants and picked an older t-shirt, one not noticeably stained, and completed the look with a pair of soft canvas sneakers. She might as well get Spike used to the unglamorousness of Buffy at bedtime. Not that he would be seeing her at bed time again for a while. No. Just that he should know what he might possibly be getting into.

As she pulled her hair up into a loose bun she spared a glance for the box sitting on the bed. Spike's collection of Buffy-centric treasures, or at least what remained of it. With a sigh she approached it and lifted the lid to look at the contents. Her hand in reached inside, raking through photos and little scraps of paper covered in Spike's handwriting. She reached for one of them, hesitating. It was his poetry; should she read it?

Well, really, it was written for her, so where was the harm. She pulled out a crinkled sample and smoothed it against her bedspread. Spike had pretty writing. Much prettier than hers, she thought with a grimace. The script flowed lightly along the page, smooth and strong and curly. Buffy's eyes focused on the beginning of the short poem and she read, 'In the darkness of my life I see her, bright and strong and swift./ She of beauty royal, muse divine? A woman with a gift./ Every line and feature holds her charm and grace/ With never a rift/ To mar her face./ She who lights my world, makes me soar, gives my spirit lift.'

She stared at the paper, touched by his words. Spike's poetry had truly improved over the past one hundred years. But even if this little rhyme had been as rotten as the poems Spike wrote for Cecily, Buffy would have found it beautiful. Knowing the man and knowing his feelings, she couldn't think anything else. Gently she folded the paper and put if back inside the box. Buffy covered it with its cardboard lid and slid it under her bed.

Quietly Buffy crept down the stairs and out the front door, unspeakably glad that it was she and not her watcher that had found the shrine and the poetry in it.

________________________________________________________________________

The exterior lights at Giles's apartment were on, as they always were when Buffy was expected. She stood on the front mat for a moment, trying to build up her courage. She raised a shaky hand and knocked twice on the oak. A moment later she heard her watcher's voice call out a gruff, "It's open." Her hand landed on the knob, twisted it, and pushed the door open.

Buffy entered quickly and shut the door behind her. Once the light from the carriage lights outside was blocked, the interior of her watcher's house seemed so dark. The only illumination in the downstairs came from the pendant lamps in the kitchen. Giles was sitting on one of his barstools, staring at the Formica countertop. Beside him sat an unopened bottle of scotch and an empty glass tumbler.

He'd changed out of his suit after leaving the crypt and his glasses were absent, but even in jeans and a button-up shirt there was something formal and cool about him. She might be a slayer, but there were times when Giles unnerved Buffy more than any demon. It was rarely deliberate, but that didn't make him any less frightening. He became so intent, so quiet, so motionless that it felt like she was a specimen in a jar that he was examining. It terrified her that one day he might look at her in that way with disgust instead of anger or confusion as he sometimes did.

True, he wasn't looking at her at the moment, but the way he wasn't looking at her still managed to be intimidating. He hadn't said another word, though she'd been standing there for almost five minutes. No polite offers of a cool beverage, no asking her to have a seat, and no little Gilesy half-smile. Buffy was at a loss. She crossed her arms over her chest and said in a quiet voice, "Hey Giles."

"Buffy," he replied evenly.

She took a few steps toward him, stopping beside the countertop three feet away from him. He didn't attempt to make conversation, so Buffy felt obligated to fill the empty air, well aware that she was going to start babbling as badly as Willow if she didn't get more than one word responses. "I got Spike to take the cure. He seemed better when I left. Then I stopped by my house and changed. Dawn and Mom were glad to hear that Spike's okay. Dawn doesn't want us to know, but she totally has a crush on him."

She waited, but his only response was a nod. Maybe he'd answer a direct question. It would be rude not to, right? And Giles was never that rude, even if he was distant. With a swallow, she asked, "So did you and Xander get the Gargle – um, demon, taken care of?"

"Glarghk Guhl Kashma'nik," he stated automatically. His eyebrows rose and his head shook slightly. "No, actually. It seems that after Drusilla left the crypt, she decided to take it with her. Xander wasn't certain whether or not he should stop her, so in the end she led the creature away by its chains, back into the woods."

Buffy smiled momentarily. "She always did have strange taste in men." For the first time, Giles looked at her. His expression reflected so many thoughts, but most of all she could see the irony he found in her statement and a certain, almost cruel, amusement. Disturbed, Buffy looked away. "S-so, anything special about this demon?"

When he replied it was as though he was reading from one of his musty books. "Nocturnal. Injects its victims with a neurotoxin that slowly induces a vegetative state. It tracks and eats them at its leisure."

"So it thought Spike was dinner?" she asked.

"Most likely."

Giles continued to stare at her, unblinking. Buffy was too tired to keep dancing around like this. She sighed. "Just say it, Giles. Tell me I'm insane."

"Why would I say something like that?" Giles asked in a sardonic voice. He turned so that he leaned against the counter, propped up on his arm. "Tell me, Buffy, why I would have a reason to doubt your sanity."

A deep breath filled Buffy's lungs. This was it. With a fast exhale, she confessed, "Because I'm falling for Spike."

There was a snort from her watcher as he lifted a hand to rub his eyes. "Yes, I can't imagine how, with decisions like that, I might find you a bit off."

Frustration and anger were building in Buffy. "This isn't a joke, Giles."

He barked out a short laugh. "I hope not. If it is, it's bloody unfunny." He let his hand fall and fought to keep his voice level as he answered her. "I had my suspicions that you were becoming so inclined, given your treatment of him when he woke from his coma. It seemed more than simple sympathy."

"I promised I'd help him. I couldn't do that without being kind," was her defensive answer.

"Perhaps not." He cleared his throat. "And yet I know that this morning, kindness was not a feeling you associated with Spike. Your contempt for him is legendary."

"I despised him," she agreed. "but I...things have changed."

Giles leaned forward. "Because of Spike's feelings for you?"

Her mouth opened in surprise. "You know about that?"

Giles nodded. "Yes, I'd surmised that much from Xander's description of his attentions toward you." His lips pursed and he looked back to his countertop, unseeing. "You're an adult Buffy, one capable of making her own decisions. You're intelligent, and strong, and I trust you with my life. With the lives of others.

"There are so many obvious objections I could make to this, Buffy. I will not insult you by reciting them, but-"

"You mean how he's a vampire and I'm a slayer? That he could get my friends, or my family, killed? That he could betray me? That he's evil? That he's soulless?" Buffy asked. "Believe me Giles, I've thought of all that."

"Well, have you thought that perhaps these new feelings are a lie?" He drummed his fingers on the counter. "I could live with the possibility of mutual affection between yourself and Spike, as unworthy as he is. But I have difficulty believing this change of heart can be sincere, when you spent hours inside Spike's mind, possibly being influenced without your knowledge by the illusion to which he fell prey!"

"It wasn't an illusion." Buffy murmured. "It was memories. Horrible memories. Spike was reliving the worst parts of his life, over and over and over, with me along for the ride. It wasn't something he just imagined. It's possible for the venom to make that happen, right?"

Giles mused for a moment. "The hallucinations are based on the thoughts of the prey at the time of infection. It's the subject's own mind that creates and maintains the delusion, so the realism would vary between victims. They provide their own cage." He sighed. "The nature of the fantasy doesn't mean that you weren't affected by it."

"I know love spells, Giles. I remember what it felt like to be engaged to Spike. This isn't some magic curse." Buffy shook her head. "I witnessed his life, Giles, and yes, that's influenced me because it made me see things I'd been ignoring. That has nothing to do with spells or venom. I feel like I met the real Spike for the first time. And I liked him."

"Memory is the most deceptive of guides," Giles responded irritably. "Imperfect and subjective."

Buffy shook her head. "Not these memories. They were real, vibrant." She looked away for a moment. "Some of them were experiences I remember. His memories and mine match up perfectly. More perfectly than I'd like, sometimes."

Giles clenched then unclenched his hands. "That doesn't mean seeing Spike is a good decision."

"Please Giles. You said you trust my judgment." She took a step nearer to her watcher. "I know him so well, Giles, better than you can imagine. I've seen him as a man and as a vampire. He's had the most terrifying and painful experiences but somehow survived. He's strong. He's loyal. He loves so deeply-"

He cut her off. "Like Angel? Your supposed soul mate?"

She shook her head. "No. Angel was a stranger. I never knew him. Spike, I've seen at his very worst. He can be a good man."

Giles stood and closed the short distance between them. "You said it yourself, Buffy. He's a demon. No soul, just a chip. One day that microchip is likely to malfunction, and if his feelings for you falter-"

Adamant, Buffy declared, "That won't happen. He loves me."

"It's still possible. What then?" Giles demanded.

She sighed. "Then I'll kill him."

"Do you hear yourself, Buffy?" he asked, disbelieving. "Is it rational to open yourself to this kind of pain?"

"No. Probably not. But I can't ignore his feelings for me or mine for him. Yes, it could come to that, some day." She stared at him, unblinking and adamant. "I was beginning to doubt I'd ever be able to get close to someone again. I will not lose this chance just because of what might happen someday in the future."

"Buffy-"

"It hurt you when Jenny was killed," Buffy stated.

He frowned, taken aback. With a slow nod, he acknowledged her observation. "Yes, it did."

Her eyes flashed as she demanded, "Would you give up the time you had with her to avoid the pain?"

Giles shook his head and stammered, "T-that's a different matter."

Buffy blinked. "No it's not."

"Yes it is," he insisted

"No it's not."

"Yes it is!"

"No it's not!"

"Yes, it-" he broke off, staring for a moment at the carpet. The corners of his mouth ticked, and Buffy thought for a moment he was smiling. "You know, you can be rather stubborn."

She huffed. "Maybe, but I'm not the only one."

Her watcher sighed. "Have you told your mother about this?"

"Mm-hmm," she affirmed. "Mom says we're bound to have some terrible fights."

"Yes, I would say that's given," Giles agreed. Another sigh. "I'm not going to talk you out of this, am I?"

Buffy shook her head.

Giles looked up, as though asking for patience. Resigned, he pleaded. "Will you at least promise me to be careful around Spike?"

"Don't worry, Giles."

"Little late for that, I'm afraid," he countered, "with my daugh- slayer dating William the Bloody."

"Well, we're not actually dating yet. We have to talk about things." Buffy smiled and wrapped her arms around her watcher's waist. "I promise I'll be careful."

Giles brought his arms up to return her hug, pulling her against him. "Thank you."

With a sniff, Buffy whispered. "I'm sorry if I disappointed you, but I-"

"Never. Disagreeing with me isn't a crime. Some would probably call it a virtue." Buffy laughed. "You'll always have my approval, Buffy." He patted her shoulder lightly. "Spike on the other hand...he'll need to earn it. And I intend to make certain that he does."

________________________________________________________________________

Buffy knew when she entered the crypt that something was wrong. She could hear Spike's cries from the upper level. She darted down the ladder in time to see Spike writhing on his mattress, face contorted in fear. Buffy ran forward and grabbed him by the shoulders, calling out loud, "Spike! Spike, wake up. It's a dream, Spike."

With a gasp his eyes opened. He saw her and grasped her arms for support as he panted, still panicked from his nightmare. "I'm here Spike," she assured him. He nodded, calming slowly. His eyes stayed glued to her as though he expected her to disappear at any moment. Buffy gave him a small smile to reassure him. "Go back to sleep. I'll be here."

He swallowed and in a rough, tired voice replied, "If you're here out of pity, I'd rather you just go home. I couldn't take it if you left tomorrow." He hung his head, as though embarrassed by what he'd admitted. There was no bravado in him now, just an honest need to be near someone.

"I'm staying, Spike," she said firmly. "I'm not leaving you." She pushed him back down against the mattress and stroked his face gently. His hooded eyes closed, and after a few minutes his unnecessary breathing evened out.

Buffy lay down beside him.

*****