The beaming sun and cool breeze made the ten-minute walk to the park quite a comfortable jaunt. Spike studied with a child-like fascination the new and old sites of downtown Sunnydale. Two blocks from the Expresso Pump was a new club--Xanadu's--as well as several new shops. Most of the remaining shops had had moderate facelifts, though they retained their familiar monikers.

"The more things change," he uttered to himself, impressed with the new yet familiar downtown.

"The more they stay the same," Buffy finished for him and smiled when he beamed at her. As he turned his attention back to the streets, Buffy couldn’t help but to be in awe of this new Spike that walked beside her. Just like this new town, he was so different, but the core, the glue that held him together, was still the Spike that she had first met outside the Bronze almost seven years ago.

"What's so funny?" Spike asked when Buffy giggled softly at his side.

"Nothing," on his smirk she clarified, "I mean it's just that--can you believe that we've known each other for like seven years now?"

He whistled at that. "And both of us are still alive. Fancy that."

"Tell me about it. Who would've thunk we'd make it this far."

"Well," Spike replied, and he slung his arm casually over Buffy's shoulder, "I knew the whole time that I'd be around now. It was you, Slayer, that I didn’t think would be around what with the Big Bad after you."

"Puleasse," she spat and jokingly pushed him away. "Like you ever had a shot at beating me."

The former vampire stopped and stared at the petite blond incredulously. "Are you daft? Because I clearly remember your arse bein' saved by good ole Mummy dearest nearly braining yours truly with an axe to the head." He touched the back of his head for effect. "Bloody thing still 'urts," he muttered and pasted a sullen look on his face.

"Oh my God," Buffy teased, "I can't believe it. The Big Bad's pouting cuz he got beat up by a couple of women."

"Did not!" The vampire replied indignantly and huffed when Buffy arched her eyebrow in victory. "Pushy little bint," he muttered before thrusting his hands in his pockets.

"And proud of it," Buffy beamed and they walked the remainder of the jaunt through downtown in silence.

Spike let Buffy lead the way, always half a step behind her. He told himself that it was because she knew the best place to sit in the park and that it had nothing--absolutely, positively nothing--to do with the pleasant view he received by cocking his head to the side, just like so.

Who am I kidding, he confessed, it's all about the view. The luscious view was, in part, to the tight Capri's that Buffy wore. Capri's that just so happened to be white and, thus allowing him a most intimate peek of the thongs that she was wearing. Though he could only discern the faint outline of said panties it was enough to get his mind churning with an assortment of visions of Buffy sans the pants. Then sans the shirt and--sod it all--naked as a jay bird! It had been two years since he had touched her in the overt sexual way that they used to share and now he wanted nothing more than that.

S'not quite accurate, mate, He conceded. As much as he wanted Buffy in every position known to man (not to say that they hadn't experimented with an assortment of--hell, they had put the Kama Sutra to shame) there was something much more important to him. Something that would dwarf even the longest of their romps in the sack. It was so simple yet so difficult to obtain and as his hand brushed lightly against hers, he couldn't help but feel bitter at the fact that he would never get it.

Is it that hard? He thought, frustrated. Knew her for four years and some Joe Bloke rides from the shadows and steals her heart. S'bloody unfair if you ask me.

Though she hadn't looked toward her companion since their last words, Buffy knew that his eyes were on her. A very specific part of her, to be exact and the slayer couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy by his ocular attention to her backside. Of course, the giddiness transformed itself into an all-too-familiar warmth that nestled between her thighs and she couldn’t help but be thankful that he couldn’t detect her arousal like he used to.

"Thank God for small favors," she said and was surprised that Spike didn’t spew out a rejoinder. Curious, she glanced over at him and noticed the telltale signs of 'William in deep thought': the wrinkled eye brows, the slight jut of the lower lip though they were set in a straight line and the midnight flush of his eyes. Yeah, something was on his mind big-time.

"Care to share?" Buffy asked innocently. The remark was enough to nudge Spike out of his reverie though it took him a minute to refocus his attention.

"What was that, luv?" he asked and risked a stealthy glance at the curve of her hip.

"Were you looking at my butt?" Buffy asked, feigning shock. She bit her cheek when she saw the blush creep up on his cheeks as he fumbled for something to say.

"Wha…I…what?" Was all he got out before Buffy's tenuous hold on her laughter broke.

Holding one hand to her stomach, Buffy fumbled her way to the closest bench where she then placed both hands over her aching body part and she doubled over in a cacophony of guffaws.

In the blink of an eye (well, two blinks, actually) Spike had gone from embarrassed to angry to a prideful smirk at the sound of Buffy's laughter. As much as he hated to be the brunt of laughter in any situation, Spike couldn’t hold in the warmth that coursed through him as he watched the love of his existence shake with laughter as the sun highlighted her immaculate features. In that moment, as her hair shook loose of the ponytail and her eyes teared in mirth, Spike knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this woman was a goddess.

"Cor, you are beautiful," he said in amazement, unaware of his words until Buffy stopped in mid-laughter.

Buffy stared at Spike wide-eyed, temporarily frozen by his simple declaration. It wasn’t the words themselves or the sincerity behind them that tugged at her heart--he had said it often enough and though she never admitted it, it always touched her.

Nor was it because he was human and, thus, had a soul. In his time gone, Buffy had realized that a soul did not mean one was entirely good. It took time for her brain to rationalize that the opposite was true as well. That despite his lack of a soul, Spike had definitely been on the side of good. He was by no means a white hat, but she now understood that there was no such thing as black and white.

Buffy pushed that thought aside, knowing that if she let it, the regret of realizing the truth may have been achieved too late, would consume her and sullen the mood more than the upcoming talk would.

She focused on his words and her feelings as he said them and she pinpointed why they affected her this time more than others. No longer was she bogged down by her sacred duty or the morose attitude of 'why me'. For the first time in years, Buffy Anne Summers was enjoying life and her heart was open to possibilities and emotions that had been impossible during her time with Spike.

But what does that mean, Buffy? She asked herself, baffled at what the answer was. No, she couldn’t think about Spike like that. Not now, maybe not ever. But there was a definite maybe-age in there, Buff, a tiny voice whispered. She wanted to bound and gag that voice, then pummel it into submission before shutting it in a crate and dropping it to the bottom of the ocean that was were her tumultuous thoughts. But she stayed her hand for, she knew that recently listening to the voice was most definitely 'of the good'. Hell, if she hadn't listened to it, she may have never seen Spike again.

Okay, she admonished before it could sound again, let's not get all with the partying just yet. There's still a lot we have to do before anything is settled

So, the voice began, hopefully, does that mean…?

"Thank you," she replied bashfully to Spike's comment, effectively drowning out the remainder of what her new inner voice had to say.

Spike looked up in surprised. When he saw the slightly frantic look in Buffy's eyes, he had cursed himself and went to study the ground as his foot kicked idly at some rocks. His first thought had been too much, too fast, though, considering the 'friendly' kiss they had shared earlier, could his comment really be deemed that? Then he had thought that it had brought forth unpleasant memories for her--memories that were obviously no longer a stumbling block for the Slayer despite the severity of them. His hunched shoulders signified the 'whipped dog' mentally he still held--waiting to be kicked and hit into submission until the next time he was needed to vent frustration. He had expected a million things and, despite Buffy's new demeanor and her promises of a 'gentler Buffy', her heartfelt thanks was not on that list.

"You're welcome," he offered shyly and sat down next to her. His hands remained in his pockets as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

They sat in an amicable silence for several minutes, appreciating the peaceful day as well as sneaking furtive glances at one another, though the stealth of said glances were quite unsuccessful.

"Bloody hell," Spike huffed after catching her for the third or fourth time, "is one of us gonna get the stones to say something or are we gonna sit hear like a couple of bloody teenagers and admire the view."

"What's wrong with the view?" Buffy demanded petulantly. She then narrowed her gaze at Spike's cerulean orbs and, very deliberately, stated, "I happen to like the view."

To say Spike blushed was akin to noting that the Sun was bright--gross understatement. Buffy smiled when she noticed the dimples that formed from his sheepish grin and she playfully nudged him with her shoulder. He wrenched his eyes from the sidewalk and gave Buffy a look that had her gasping.

His eyes glistened from the Sun's rays, a blue pool of ecstasy, pain, and anger, hurt and, most of all love. It was a countenance similar to the one he adorned when she broke it off with him, though this particular time he did not house the immense pain that radiated from him that night. Buffy quickly busied herself with examining her fingernails, unsure of her voice after the inundation of emotions.

Spike knew he hit a cord when he made eye contact with Buffy. It wasn’t anything new, as he had known for quite sometime that she could rarely hold his gaze when he put all of what he felt into it. When he could, it was a fine weapon to use and it had weakened her already token resistance many a time, leading to hours of intense pleasure. Other times, however, it slipped through when it was the last thing he had wanted her to see. He remembered the crushed look she gave him when she called it off and he knew she had seen everything that was Spike in his eyes. If he hadn't been so hurt, the pity that carried in her voice would have been enough for him to give a hurtful retort As it was, he had just stood there, unbelieving that it was happening to him--again.

You're not the only one with abandonment issues, luv, he mused. How many times had he been in love and had his heart torn asunder? Perfect three-for-three, mate. Maybe if I beg pathetically enough, Buffy'll take advantage of a two-fer-one special.

Buffy saw the dejection in Spike's eyes as his shoulders slumped and she couldn’t help but wonder what painful thoughts were running rampant in the former Big Bad's mind.

Her smile faded and she frowned at the defeated look Spike cast and Buffy automatically took his hand in hers and she felt him stiffen. Her eyebrows creased in confusion until she followed the direction of his eyes and she recoiled without thinking.

Shit, she thought as she nervously fingered the ring Garrett had slipped on her finger four months ago, wishing that she could put off the inevitable. But it wasn’t fair to Garrett or Spike for her to chicken out now--sooner or later the truth was bound to come forth. Now was as good a time as any.

"Spike," she said hesitantly. "There are some…things that happened while you were gone. And I think it's about time I tell you about them."

***

The butterflies in my stomach are torn between holding patterns and strafing runs as I contemplate what to say next. But then again, I should be used to that, shouldn’t I? I mean, Buffy and 'words caught in throat' are pretty much synonymous though I am also known for my Willow-like ability to babble; something I so do not wanna do. So I guess I'm stuck between saying too little and talking until he shoves a pipe down my throat to…I did not just think that! Tell me I did not just think that…

"Uh, luv?" He asks, breaking me from my pre-speech haze. He gives me that little smirk of his, though there is nothing mocking in it. Hey, a sincere smirk from Spike--never thought I'd see that. Okay, Buffy concentrate.

"Yeah…huh?" Oh, very smooth.

"So, are we gonna chat this out," he waves his hand between us, flashing another glance at the ring, "or are we gonna sit here in a not uncomfortable silence and admire the rest of the day?"

"Well, I don’t see you offering a topic of conversation," I retort and smile smugly at the silk feel of my defenses raising effortlessly. But that's bad--no Buffy defenses. Buffy defenses a no-no; it only leads to bad and hurtful remarks like…

"Last time I checked, pet, I wasn't the one engaged." Point. I want to respond with something sardonic but the kicked-Spike look plus a fresh helping of hurt and bitterness in his voice derails my comeback train.

"Spike," I attempt to start the conversation again.

"What? Think I wouldn’t notice? Hell, I noticed the bloody thing when I first saw you. S'not like it's hard to miss, mind you, being roughly the size of sodding Arizona and all. I mean…" I silence him by placing two fingers over his lips, something that seemed like a good idea at the time. Of course, the horse hooves sounding as my heartbeat beg to differ. The feel of his warm lips under my fingertips is quite weird considering I am so used to their cold feel.

"Are you going to let me talk or what?" I hold his gaze and feel like doing a dance when he breaks eye contact first. Point for Buffy--woo hoo!

"Sorry, luv," he has the dignity, no the audacity to look ashamed. Wow, still hard to get used to Spike all apologiz-y and stuff.

"No, Spike; I'm the one that should be apologizing to you." He graces me with the "are you daft" look and I stifle a laugh. Still the same ol' Spike that I've come to know and…well, aren't I getting off topic.

"Okay, why don’t we do this. No apologies until I'm done." He responds with that boyish smile of his, and I can't help but return it--without the boyishness, of course.

"When you left, so much changed so quickly. I told you some of it on the way from San Diego, but there was…a lot that I didn’t share. I was waiting for the right time and, hey, no time like the present.

"Well, after Willow was whisked away to some Wiccan coven in England, I took stock in a few things. I called it Buffy's gradual Epiphany."

"'Gradual Epiphany', luv?" He doesn’t even try to conceal his amusement. "Thought epiphanies were like bolts of lightning to the cerebellum."

"Well, mine aren't, so…" I flick my tongue at him but quickly retract it as I catch him licking his own lips, which, of course, has the same effect on me and--we're in the park. Not that anything would happen if we weren't. God, Buffy, get it together.

"Anyway, you're prolonging the…"

"Inevitable?" There is not trace of humor in his voice and my smile crashes onto the bench. This is going to be so damn hard.

"Spike--I…I'm…" But he holds up his hand.

"No sorries, remember?" I nod resolutely and inhale deeply, relishing in the scent of the coming summer, praying that it will give me the strength to get this all out.

"You're right; no interruptions. Like I was saying, after Willow left, I had to take stock in a few things. The first was that the world is not black and white. Actually, I think I knew that awhile ago, but I just didn’t wanna believe it. Ambiguity not a friend of a slayer let me tell you. Okay, stop with the looks, I know already--everything about life is pretty much in the gray, some things just have a darker--or lighter--shade. Am I right?"

"And why didn’t you live by said philosophy earlier on in life?" His voice hints at teasing though the seriousness of his eyes clues me in on how to answer.

"Truthfully? Because it…complicates things. Back then, I wasn’t much one with the complex issues of morality. It was a very clear line between humans and demons for me. Left little to contemplation and everything else to my fists. It was easier, I'll tell you that, but I know that's not how life is. Life's all about the ambiguities--I know that now. Hell, I should've bought that clue when Angel went Postal but, of course, I chalked it up as a fluke or something. Anyway, Warren showed me what humans were truly capable of and," I stare at him pointedly, hoping he gets what I'm about to say next, "I also realized what some demons were capable of, despite their nature." His expression doesn’t change and I can't help but feel dejected, yet I truck on.

"Well, after a few minor adjustments in the Buffy-POV, I tried to focus my attention more on Dawn. Like I said, when we were trapped in that grave, she fought so well. You would have been proud of her."

"I'm always proud of the 'Bit," he says with complete sincerity though the huskiness in his voice lets me know that he is still hurting big-time from Dawn's less than thrilling reaction to him. But we can talk about that later. Right now I want to tell him about me--and this ring.

"Yeah. Well, of course, after we got home and settled, guess who's bugging me twenty-four seven about training her? Well, after what I saw, I only put up token resistance, though when it came time for her to want to patrol, Buffy threw quite a hissy fit. But I'll save that for later.

"Well, about that time--it was about a week after…you left--I quit the Doublemeat Hellhole. I just couldn’t take it anymore. And don’t get a big head about this," I wag my finger at him, "but you were right about that place. Killing me, I mean. It was like every second I was in there, a part of me whittled away, and I had to fight like hell to get all those missing pieces back." No way am I gonna tell him that there are still a few pieces missing from the jigsaw that is me because I really don’t know what it is exactly that I am missing.

"Anyway, the next day I started the job search and by Friday of the next week I was gainfully employed at Sunnydale Savings & Loan. Considering my skill set, I was really lucky to be hired on especially since Old Navy was my other choice."

"Seems to me that the clothing gig would have fit you to a tee, luv," he interjects, a wry grin plastering his face.

"Uh, well, Spikey dear," I give him the same sarcastic voice that he always gives me, "since I am trying to save money, it wouldn’t have been in my best interests to work in such a tempting environment." My smugness disappears when I see him smirk and open his mouth for a rejoinder obviously littered with innuendo.

"Anyway," I say a little too loudly but he gets the point yet his smirk remains firmly in place. "Like I said, Sunny D's S&L was a perfect fit. I had a set schedule that I could tweak if need be and the pay was quite the upgrade from the Meat Factory."

"The people there were pretty good to me from the start, especially my trainer. His name was--is--Garrett. Garrett Morgan." I pause, unsure of how much to tell him about me and Gare, and he takes notice, stroking my shoulder affectionately, encouraging me to continue.

I ignore the chill that scampers up my spine at his touch and resume my diatribe. "Well, it took him about a week of throwing out hints before he asked me out. I politely declined although I did kinda like him. Not like that," I cover when I see the hints of a deep scowl start to appear across the face of my former lover, "well, not then at least," I add quietly. I so don’t want to hurt Spike, especially considering how much I had done it in the past. But at the same time, I can't just sugar coat everything or I'll never get through to the truth. And the truth is what Spike deserves.

Even if I have no freakin' clue about what truth I'm aiming for.

"It took me over a month to finally agree to go out with him and that was in no small part to Dawn's incessant whining of me getting a life." I think back to the picture I saw in his office--the one of Dawnie and me on our picnic. "The day you were here, taking the picture of me and Dawn, was the day I finally gave in to her bugging me." It was the day I felt things change and I just knew that Spike was dead and I can't help but to wonder if that, and not Dawn's persistence, was the reason I accepted Garrett's offer to go out.

I shake my head, erasing the thought from my head in fear of what else my filter into my already overloaded cranium. "Needless to say, the first date was not what I would call a success. I was in a bitchy mood…"

"You didn’t beat him up did you?" Spike asks, and despite his good-natured jibe, the comment still hurts me a little. I guess he sees it because he mutters an apology and looks away for a few seconds before turning back to me.

"To answer your question, smart-ass," I quip, hoping to mask the hurt and I think I do a good job, "I didn’t beat him. It was just one of those non-talkative days for me. He didn’t help it, either, being all nervous and stuff."

"Do you think--" Spike begins nervously.

"Do I think what?"

"Do you…do you think that had anything to do with me--thinking I was dead, I mean?" He finished hesitantly and I can hear the remorse in his voice but that's not all. Call me crazy, but it's almost as if I sense the barest sliver of hope underneath it all.

Choosing to ignore it for now, I answer him honestly. "I don’t know." Okay, so I'm not being honest--with him or myself. I know I told him I changed but I also reminded him that there's that residual sliver of 'denial Buffy' just hanging around. I really have to get rid of it, especially if I want to erase even a fraction of the hurt that still lies between Spike and I.

I bite my bottom lip when I see his crestfallen appearance. Guess he was hoping I would say yes--kinda morbid but, then again, I can see where he's coming from. All he wants--all he's ever wanted, is to be cared for and to have someone look at him in a way other than disdain. Really can't say I blame him, though. It's only human to desire acceptance and Spike is human...

My eyes bulge at my choice of words and I vaguely notice Spike's concern though I do nothing to acknowledge it. It's only human to desire acceptance, I repeat to myself trying to grasp the reality of it. No matter how sorry I have been these last two years for my past behavior against Spike, I don’t think I have ever seen him as anything other than a special vampire. I understand that everything is not black and white, but are the shades of gray that dark? Shit, I need a drink.

I stand suddenly and Spike follows suit and it's a definite that he senses my nervousness. Thankfully, he doesn’t pressure me; he just cocks his head to the side before asking, "Fancy another walk, luv?" I smile gratefully and nod. He bows gracefully and waves his hand away from us. "Always after you, madam."

"Theatrical much?" I roll my eyes though his grandiose gesture has me fighting like mad to contain the smile about to break free. Damn it, too late.

I snort at his pleased expression before walking off. Of course, I can't let him think he's won that easily. I stop suddenly and languidly run my hands down my hips and toss my hair to the side, throwing over my shoulder, "And you may wanna keep your eyes from being glued to my butt like you were before," and I walk off.

I stifle a giggle when I hear an all too familiar grunt and his soft footfalls as he catches up with me. Out the corner of my eye, I notice his hands are buried deeply in the pockets of his khakis while his attention is focused straight ahead. I almost laugh aloud when I see the embarrassed tinge his skin has taken on but I keep my amusement to myself.

The brush of our arms sends another tingle across my flesh, and I rue the day that this indescribable feeling goes away. I mean, it would make things so much easier, but at the same time, I don’t think simple and easy really agree with me.

I absently fiddle with the ring on my finger and think of how close I am to realizing my dreams for a normal life. But an all too big part of me, hidden in the shadows, is whispering--whispering softly about how normal isn't for me and never will be.

For the umpteenth time in two days, I brush the thought away and concentrate on telling Spike the rest about Garrett. Maybe, just maybe, if I concentrate on words and not my emotions, I can get through this.

But you know your words cut Spike more than your fists ever did. I want to scream at the resigned truth of my thought but think better of it, considering Spike may think I'm a nut.

I curse at the empty feeling that washes over me. I know that, no matter how easy I go on him, Spike is going to be hurt with what I have to say but it can't be helped. If only I was the old Buffy, I really would ignore the stab of guilt that always came over me when I hurt him, purposely or otherwise. Yeah, it'd be so much easier but it's not going to be that easy.

Because deep down, and on the surface, hurting Spike again is the last thing that I want to do.

***

The couple walked around the park for the better part of an hour, making small talk and admiring the beautiful day as they had on the walk over to the park. The companionship they shared was comfortable to say the least yet in the back of their minds, both knew that they could only prolong the inevitable and that Buffy would have to finish the rest of her tale soon.

When Buffy finally garnered the resolve to continue, she narrated the rest of the events of her personal involvement with Garrett with an almost detached voice.

After the first disaster date, she had shied away from Garrett at work, only passing pleasantries along when it was necessary and feeling awkward whenever they were alone for more than a minute. Despite her aloofness, Garrett continued in his attempts to reach Buffy. He had tried his best to get it through his head that they would never be more than friends but following that notion was easier said then done. From the first day, he had felt an almost supernatural pull toward her and he dared not to deny it. He had refused to be defeated by Buffy's seemingly indifferent attitude toward him and maintained his cheerful exuberance toward her despite the constant lurch in his stomach at the jagged rift growing between them.

"Then one day," Buffy said, the memories as fresh as they had happened merely hours ago. "He just kinda snapped. I was on lunch at the Expresso Pump and he was coming from the store next door--it was his off day. So he tried to start a conversation and I was really nasty to him. Not 'I hate you' nasty, but overly sarcastic. Well, after I said something completely out of line, he really turned the tables on me.

"He told me how cozy it must feel hiding behind that--and I quote--'nice little shell of yours where nothing is ever your fault and you're always the victim.'" Spike snorted in agreement though Buffy chose to ignore it.

"Well, you could probably guess that I didn’t take that too well and struck back at him about running away from things." Buffy had told Spike earlier of Garrett's migration from San Francisco because he couldn’t be in the same city where his girlfriend disappeared. "I think that was the first time I had seen him mad…no, he wasn't mad: he was pissed." Buffy laughed uneasily at the memory of Garrett's pain-filled eyes when her words cut into him. She had immediately regretted what she had said but didn’t know what to do to rectify it.

Though the tears had clawed and swan in his light gray eyes, Garrett had held them at bay. Contrary to the anger and pain that coursed through him, his voice had been eerily calm when he had told Buffy "If anyone is running, it's the guy that was here before me. That's the only excuse for how you act around me, or even when other guys approach you. And to think, I thought that a guy would be out of his mind to leave you but if you treat everyone like you've done me, I really don't blame him for leaving…"

The unease in Spike's gut continued to spread after every word Buffy spook, but her words concerning what Garrett had said to her riled him visibly and he growled instinctively.

"Spike," Buffy said softly and touched his arm. Her hand vibrated from the tension in his muscles and she squeezed his taut bicep firmly, imploring him to look at her by force of will alone.

"The wanker had no right to say that to you," he managed through clinched teeth, his nails biting into his palms as he fought to reign in his overwhelming urge to find this Garrett and pummel him into oblivion.

"You're wrong, Spike," Buffy replied and was relieved when he trained his gaze on her.

"I'm wrong? How do you figure? What that bloody pillock said…"

"Was right on the money and you know it. After I came back I was not a very good person. It's not that I was a bitch to everyone. Just the ones I cared about. Kind of ironic, isn't it? Being nice and friendly to strangers but cold and on the defensive with those closest to me. I'm not saying that I did that to everyone, all the time, but when someone was trying to show me how much they cared, I was the big-pusher off-er, not wanting people to get too close. It did get better, thanks to you," she poured her gratitude into her gaze, hoping that Spike would receive the message.

"But, even if I had improved after I climbed out of that grave with Dawn, there were still things that I was slow on the uptake with and Garrett's words rang a lot truer than I was ready for. You know I broke down right there and Garrett just held me. It was just like one of my walls just crumbled and I was no longer hiding behind anything. I let him in that day and it wasn’t long before we were together. That's not to say that there weren't times when I reverted back to the old Buffster--hell, even now I sometimes do that--but Gare never let me do the pity thing anymore. And the things that opened up to me, emotionally, were amazing. Even my slaying got better, and I think I finally accepted it. That's not to say that I enjoy it all the time, but I understand that slaying's a part of me and being that, I am just one of the many shades of gray that this world is colored in. My purpose may be of the light but my powers are still cloaked in the darkness--you were right about that but you were wrong about me belonging in the darkness." Though Buffy said this with no malice, Spike still felt a prickle of guilt remembering his harsh words to her in the Bronze the night in question.

Lost in her own memories, Buffy was unaware of Spike's malaise, thus continued her explanation. "Things progressed pretty fast between us in those few months and we were always together. Everyone liked him except maybe Xander. I think it was because Garrett took up my time and that he started patrolling with me." On Spike's look she said, "I know, I know. But I guess when I told him all of that he couldn’t resist being at my side. Of course, he made sure that I knew that he wasn’t trying to protect me but the innocent people around him. To be honest, he really can take care of himself, at least as well as Riley in his Initiative days. But anyway, everything fell into place and we were going great. Then four months ago, he asked me…"

Spike's two-year-old heart constricted at the words that followed, and it took all his willpower not to cry out in agony. He had already surmised that actually hearing Buffy tell him she was engaged was much worse than seeing the ring on her finger and he didn’t think he could deal anymore. At least not now.

"And then, about two months ago…" but she was interrupted by Spike's hand on her shoulder.

"Buffy, I can't," he whispered on shaky breaths.

"Wha…"

"I can't do this now?"

"Do what Spike?"

"This!" He spat and waved violently between them.

"What? You don’t want to--what? --Be around me?" Her anger was beginning to simmer though it was held in check by her hurt feelings. She knew it was going to be tough for him, but if she was sure about one thing in her complex life, it was that she wanted Spike in it in one way or another.

Spike snorted in derision. Leave it to bloody Buffy to think it's all her again. Staring at the sky, he didn’t see the hazel flash of her eyes or how she thrust her hands against her hips.

"What?" she demanded and the anger was clearly above the hurt. "Are you trying to say this isn't about me? That I'm just doing the whole self-pity thing?"

Spike's frustration reached its zenith but as quickly as it had risen, it all dissipated. He lowered his eyes and ran shaky fingers through his hair. "Buffy…" he began but was quickly interrupted.

"Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I enjoy telling you all this knowing that it's going to hurt you? Well, believe it or not William, but hurting you is the last thing I want to do--the last thing I ever want to do," she yelled as an unbidden tear streaked down her face.

Spike opened his arms to her and Buffy took the invite. She leaned into him, her ear picking up the staccato beat of his heart as she was comforted by his familiar scent though she had yet to get used to his undeniable warmth. The arms encircling her now, though mortal, held every bit of strength that she remembered from their times together and she welcomed it.

She did not want to talk about depressing things anymore though she knew there were still things he needed to hear, to understand. Of course, she wasn’t sure he would understand, considering that she didn’t get it herself. All she knew was that as difficult as it all appeared to be now, life was only going to get more complicated.

Reading her thoughts like he always had, Spike gently pushed Buffy away by the shoulders and stared at her with all the love and understanding he could muster. He saw relief flood her eyes at the lack of expectation in his blue swirls.

"Let's not talk about this now," he graced her with a warm smile. "I'm not goin' anywhere, luv, so there'll be plenty of time to chat the rest of this out later."

"Thank you," Buffy said gratefully and allowed her former lover to lead her out of the park. As she listened to his playful banter, she was thankful to him for the reprieve but she really didn’t know how to express it to him. And it was in that moment that Buffy knew.

She loved him.

But what she didn’t know was what shape her love was took. Was it as a friend or…more? Shaking the thoughts out of her head, she concentrated on the now and would worry about what she felt later. After all, he wasn’t going anywhere.

And neither was she.

Part VII

Buffy spent the remainder of the day re-acquainting Spike with the newer Sunnydale. After the park, they had decided to take a quick jaunt through the mall; a jaunt lasted two hours and by the end of the trip, both held two shopping bags worth of purchases. Buffy had been content to head home, but Spike wanted a broader tour of the new and improved town. He had convinced a begrudging slayer to give him said tour without benefit of transportation. Thus they had ambled their way through the town and its outskirts, bogged down with bags for another two hours. Though in supernatural shape, both were thankful for the stiff winds and cloud cover that permeated the day.

Spike had been floored at the changes that had taken place outside of the downtown area. Their first stop had been Spike's former stomping grounds, the warehouse district. Those warehouses had been transformed into to several upscale condominium complexes. Spike made a mental note to call the realtor of the condos later, as they put him in mind of his penthouse in San Diego.

The used-to-be run down docks were in the process of renovation as well, not to mention the motels and other establishments, according to Buffy. It was pretty clear that Sunnydale was in its own little renaissance.

"Bloody hell," he muttered as they made their way back to Revello drive, "a bloke fancies a little sojourn for two years and what's he come back to? Bloody Stepford Farms, that's what."

Buffy laughed at Spike's childish disbelief at the new look Sunnydale. His blue eyes swam with wonder at every stop they had made and he had bombarded her with question after question. It was a side of him Buffy had rarely seen and she reveled in it.

"Yeah, yeah," she replied, waving her hand in the air. "That's what we were like when they started up the rebuilding. I mean, I know I've only been here six years, but Willow and Xander have lived here their whole lives and they couldn’t remember something actually being renovated. For those first few months, we thought it was the new mayor and another hidden agenda. But Xander finally assured us that it was nothing but the beautiful initiation of progress. Can't say that this town didn’t need it."

"I don’t know," Spike drawled, "I kinda liked that warehouse. It had a particular…style about it."

Buffy rolled her eyes as they turned the corner and were now on Revello drive. "Yeah, if you really think that…" Buffy never finished the sentence as she saw the sun's rays gleam off the finish of a familiar black BMW parked in her driveway.

"Buffy," Spike inquired when the slayer froze in place. She looked like she had been punched in the gut, her mouth agape and eyes bulging. Spike called her again and, before she shook off the haze that coiled around her senses, he followed her eyes and noted the foreign vehicle parked in the drive.

"Expectin' company, luv?" Spike asked and the sarcasm was not lost on her.

"Not really," she replied curtly, her legs stiffly propelling her forward.

Spike watched Buffy walk ahead and closed his eyes tightly. The look on her face told him everything he needed to know about the owner of the Beamer. It was that prat she was on the phone with earlier, the same one whose ring she wore. At the mere thought of the ring, Spike growled menacingly, his grip tightening around the bags he held in each hand. Though he had been human--or as close as he could get--for roughly two years now, the territoriality and possessive instinct of the vampire still resided within his bones. His lips barely moved as he whispered what should have been calming words to himself. Though he was not as impulsive as he once was, Spike had no inclinations in hiding the truth that if he were in the same room with this bloke at this moment, he'd rip him limb from limb.

Buffy had taken four steps when she registered the tingling at the back of her neck. Can't be a vampire¸ she thought, confused. She surveyed her surroundings, making sure that there were no places for vamps to hide in the six o'clock sun. After a visual surveillance of the area, her eyes fell on Spike's rigid form behind her, standing perfectly still, his eyes closed. She sighed tiredly before walking back towards him.

"Spike," she called and reached out to touch him but immediately pulled her hand away. The hostility resonating from him had risen to an intensity she hadn't remembered since…well, since he had been her ally against Angelus. Even through the years after, when they were both mortal enemies and comrades, she had never felt him this tense. She understood why it had been that way with Angelus. He had taken Spike's lover and sire from him, stripping the younger vampire of his only anchor while he had been in the wheelchair. To Buffy, it was understandable. Hell, if someone had moved in on her man she…That's when it hit her.

Buffy groaned audibly at the realization of it all. Spike knew Garrett was there and he was none too happy about that. To be honest, neither was she. Buffy had told Garrett ever since their tentative--hiatus--to call before he stopped by. She was kinda peeved by it, though curious at the same time since Garrett had respected every one of her wishes.

Not that he should, she thought sullenly. Not the way I've been acting the past two months. But as interested as she was in his unexpected arrival, Buffy first had to diffuse the ticking time bomb--no, nuclear holocaust--begging for release from the core of her ex-lover.

"Spike," she called again, punctuating it by firmly gripping Spike's forearm. Finally hearing the distant voice become nearer, Spike slowly opened his eyes and stared blankly into the eyes of the slayer. "You with me?" She asked and, despite his mood, he debated whether or not to answer that with a 'do you want me to be?' but wisely thought against it, noticing the hard line of her lips. No, it wouldn’t do good to push her over the edge of exasperation she was already teetering on. Two years ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated in calling her out, raising her ire to levels only he knew about until they would ultimately be locked in fisticuffs. But that was then; if his soul presented him with one thing, that was tact.

"Spike," she squeezed his arm, hard.

"Bloody hell, woman," he bellowed and yanked his arm away. "You'd do good to remember I have a pulse now, ergo, circulation."

"I know that," she returned sharply, "but considering that said blood has filtered up to that cranium of yours, I didn’t think you'd miss the lack of blood flow."

Tact, Spike reminded himself as his jaw popped as he ground his teeth together. "What the bloody hell are you talkin' about?" He forced through clinched teeth and silently applauded himself for the calm that floated around his words.

Buffy's head flew back in annoyance and she let out a decidedly unfeminine growl. Spike couldn’t help but be entranced by the soft curve of her neck and how slight bead of sweat trickled down the side of it. He craned his head to get a better view, his eyes roaming across the luscious planes of her body. The way her shirt clung to her pert breasts or how her Capri's highlighted her hips. He felt the call of desire creep into his lower abdomen and he began having difficulty swallowing.

Shaking her head, Buffy's gaze returned to Spike. A very enthralled Spike, by the looks of it. Buffy furrowed her eyebrows before her eyes locked with his and she realized what he was doing.

He's checking me out! Right in front of me, and he's not trying to play it off. Her thoughts meshed in torrents as she was torn about the discovery. Her first reaction--embarrassment--was obviously clear as her cheeks flamed red though her other feelings weren't quite as visible. She knew she should be pissed at Spike's blatant leering, and she was, but the other half of her was quite turned on by the Brit's out and out ogling. Of course, that last part wasn't quite appropriate since they were right down the street from her house and her…and Garrett.

Buffy's increasing arousal was stalled by the reaffirmation of her current position. Taking a deep breath, the slayer steeled her resolve and fixed Spike with a no-nonsense glare.

"Look Spike, as much as I'm enjoying your visual undressing of me," she motioned towards the house, " there is somewhere we should be."

Spike's head shot up at Buffy's words. He bit down on his lower lip sheepishly, though his eyes held a hint of defiance. He thought about replying with one of his trademark barbs but the slight panic in her eyes caused him to hold his tongue. His rigid posture slackened at her silent pleading and he nodded in the direction of the Summers home.

"After you, luv," he said, readjusting his grip on the bags while he waited for her to lead the way.

"Right, okay," Buffy forced out, not quite expecting Spike's placating tone. He just doesn't stop with the surprises, does he? Buffy shook her head and stalked slowly back to the house where things were definitely about to get interesting.

Spike followed a step behind the slayer and he couldn’t help but smile wistfully. He doubted Buffy had even noticed, but the corners of her mouth had turned upwards at his last comment and though he had no idea what it meant, he couldn’t get the thought out of his head that she really wanted him.

Well, mate--looks like you get to meet the guy who won her heart. Subconsciously, though his words and thoughts earlier said quite the opposite, the former vampire was determined to win Buffy back no matter who awaited them inside.

***

Garrett sat in the middle of the Summers living room couch, rubbing his damp palms against the outside of his dress slacks. Though the top two buttons were undone and his tie loosened considerably, the tightness around his throat would not go away.

What do I have to be nervous about? He asked himself, though the answer to that had already formulated in his mind. This was the first time in over a week that he had been here and only the fourth time this month. Not to mention the fact that Buffy had absolutely no idea that he was here.

Garrett tapped his foot nervously and glanced at his watch. "Shit," he muttered noticing the time. He had already been here twenty minutes and that was fifteen minutes longer than expected. He stood impatiently, the only sound in the room was his ragged breaths and the slight pop of his right knee. His shoes clicked against the hardwood floor and he ran a shaky hand over his close-cropped hair.

"Dawn," he called and noted the unsteadiness of his voice. He called her again, his voice battling his own uneasiness and the louder than loud ministrations of an eighteen year old's stereo system spitting out the snazzy beats of the current N'Sync.

"Yeah," came the response over the lowered volume of the music.

"I thought you said this was only gonna take five minutes."

"Five more minutes," she informed the nervous man at the bottom of the steps as she poked her head around the corner of the hallway.

"Dawn…"

"Look, Gare," she interrupted. "Why are you so nervous? It's not like you guys are in the 'awkward ex' phase of your relationship or anything. I mean, you guys are still engaged, right?"

"In theory," he muttered to himself before re-addressing Dawn, "it doesn’t matter. You know I don’t like being here when she doesn’t invite me. I think it's better if we high-tail it outta here before she gets back," especially if…

"It's because of Spike, right?" the teen asked and now stood directly at the top of the steps. She shook her head derisively when Garrett lowered his eyes. "Don’t worry about him, Garrett. His ass will be gone before you know it. I mean, once she tells him about you, there's no reason for him to stick around." Though he didn’t reply, Garrett heard the hurt and bitterness in Dawn's voice as she spat out her last words.

"If it's all the same to you," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'd like to be out before she gets back. Better yet, I'm gonna go wait outside, maybe have a smoke."

Dawn smiled wryly, her hands resting on her hips. "Garrett, you don’t smoke." He chuckled lightly at her statement before looking back up at her.

"Yeah, well--maybe I just started."

The former key snorted before turning on her heels, heading back to her room. Before she walked away, the upcoming graduate tossed over her shoulder, "I wouldn’t be surprised, with you dealing with Buffy all the time."

Garrett shook his head in laughter and turned to walk out the door. He turned the handle before whispering his assent to her last words, "Don’t I know it," before opening the door.

Of course, he thought sarcastically as his eyes locked on the two people in front of him before the hammering of his heart drowned out all possibilities of coherent thought.

"Hey Buffy," he said weakly, averting her emerald gaze.

"Hey Garrett," she returned and smiled tightly, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

"Sorry for coming without calling," he apologized, stealing a glance at the rigid figure staring him down behind Buffy, "but Dawn stopped by the bank when I was getting off and asked me for a ride. I'm taking her over to Monique's house but we're going to pick up Janice first. I was about to sit outside and wait for her," he babbled, all the while rubbing his palms together.

"It's okay," she assured. Buffy stood there, between two men she cared deeply about, unsure of what to do next. Fortunately the light haired man behind her made that decision.

"Uh, as much as I am touched by the awkwardness of this hallmark moment, luv, it'd be a tad nicer inside the comfortable confines of casa de Summers."

Buffy clicked her tongue and turned towards Spike, flashing him a very unhappy look and the he mentally cursed himself for the open hostility he knew she had picked up in his voice.

"Oh," Garrett said and moved aside, "wasn’t really thinking." Buffy smiled as she walked past and into the living room. Spike grunted his acknowledgment of Garrett when the other man muttered, "besides, I was waiting for Mr. Sunshine here to snap a picture…" He smiled tightly before closing the door and brushing past Spike.

Spike only smirked at the retreating man, thinking to himself that he just might like this guy after all.

"Course he's gotta die," he whispered to himself, "no doubt about that." Shrugging his shoulders, the once immortal sauntered into the living room, forcing himself to relax. If anything, he refused to let his jealousy show. This isn't Angelus, mate. Just some low-level blighter who just so happens to be the fiancé of the love of my life. I can handle it.

***

I lay my bags beside Buffy's next to the table and take a seat in the recliner. I would have sat on the couch with Buffy but someone beat me to it already. It brasses me off a bit but the ample space between them as they are sitting on the far ends of the couch calms my ire.

I slouch in the chair, further than usual, forcing the confidence and swagger of one hundred years to practically bleed through my veins. We all sit quietly, eyes drifting around the room, waiting for someone to break the silence. I feature a glance towards Buffy and notice that she's wringing her hands together and biting her lip. Yeah, she's about as nervous as a sheep in a room full of wolves. Course, there's no bloody wolves around here--unless you count me. Yeah, I know; I gotta soul, so I should be all-nice and accommodating, right? S'not how it works, mate. I may have gotten my old soul back, but a century of knowledge (and heartbreak) has a way of toughening up the newest occupant.

I take the lull to size up my rival. 'S a handsome bloke, I'll give him that. Can tell he works out, though he's not overly big. Can tell by his bronze skin that he's carryin' more than one ethnic heritage in his blood, just not sure what that is. He's nervous too, constantly running his hand through his dark hair. Kinda hard to do, considering that said hair isn't quite 'of the long'. But to each his own.

I sigh purposefully loud and two sets of eyes, one hazel and one grayish, flicker towards me before they drop to the floor again.

"Pardon me for interrupting this oh so engaging conversation," I say, "but are we gonna go with the formal introductions any time soon?" Buffy cuts me with one of her patented 'God, Spike--asshole much?' stares and I smile condescendingly at her. Just because we've both changed in earnest doesn’t mean that we can't indulge ourselves from time to time.

She turns herself to Garrett, her face marred with--well, truly can't discern the look on her face, but it's there no less. She steals another glance my way before doing the introductions. "Garrett, this is Sp--William. William, this is…Garrett." I see the git's face nosedive a bit at the reserved introduction. Must be trouble in paradise. I really wish I could feel bad about that but…well, hell, I'm so in love with her it kills me. No way in hell I'm gonna feel bad about any chance I get of wooing her…God, no. Tell me I just didn’t say 'woo'. Bloody Peaches, ingrained his poof-dom so far in my cerebellum, don’t think I'll ever be the man I used to be.

'Course, really can't say that I mind that last tidbit.

"William," the ponce nods curtly my way and I solicit him with a mock salute.

"Garrett. Wish I could say it's…" nice to meet you I was gonna say but I reckon that intense pressure in my chest where Buffy's eyes are boring into me shuts my gob. "It's nice to meet you," I plaster the most insincere smile possible on my face and meet his equally fake grin.

"Nice to meet you too, Spike," he says and apologizes. Git did it on purpose. I know it, he knows it and, from the evil look she's shooting both of us, Buffy knows it. She's right pissed, it's just radiating off of her--God, she looks beautiful when she's mad--and we both take that as a sign to close our bloody mouths.

"Dawn upstairs?" She asks and stands. I catch Garrett's eyes flash to the slayer's arse before he looks up to her. Thought I didn’t catch that, huh? You'll soon learn, boy, I catch everything.

"Yeah," he chuckles and I see him relax visibly at the question obviously not directed at his reasons for being here. "Said she was gonna be only five minutes."

"Let me guess--it's been, what?--at least fifteen," I offer and fondly. "Just like the Bit. Always kept me waiting last summer when you were--" I close my eyes, still unable to get past the pain of seeing her broken body. I can feel her looking at me, empathy seeping from her and even the git knows something happened.

"When I was overseas," she offers and grants me a warm smile. Guess she hadn't told him everything after all. Yet another tidbit of info to check out.

"Well, I'm gonna check and see what's taking her so long." I watch her hips sway as she exits the room. I turn my head towards the git before her voice wafts back into the room.

"And guys? Don’t make me have to kill both of you." With that, she's gone and only the light patter of her feet echoes down the steps.

So here we are, two guys in love with the same woman, sitting across from each other with no parental supervision. This is gonna be interesting.

"So," he asks casually, "how's the human thing treating you?" I smile wickedly at him and he returns my gaze without hesitation.

Yeah, this is gonna be very bloody interesting.

***

"Dawn?" Buffy called, knocking on her sister's door. She waited patiently until she heard the distinct increase in volume and then opened the door. The lithe figure of her sister was spread out on the bed, her feet tapping noiselessly to the upbeat rhythm blaring from her speakers. Her overnight bag was packed at the foot of her bed, all set to go. When she saw that she had a visitor, Dawn jumped up, and turned off her stereo.

"It's called knocking," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, tried that. But your immersion into the finer genres of modern music obviously had you preoccupied." Buffy leaned against the doorjamb while Dawn hastily put on her shoes.

"Okay," the teen asked, absently running a comb through her hair. "Now you've got my attention, care to tell me why you're up here?" Buffy winced slightly at her younger sister's callous tone. It had been so long since she had faced Dawn's cool indifference that Buffy wasn't quite prepared for it.

"Uh, well…Garrett's waiting for you." She cursed herself at the lack of strength in her voice but ignored the urge to add a biting comment to make her sound more confident.

"I know," Dawn said before turning cold eyes towards Buffy, "is he down there." On Buffy's guilty look, Dawn snorted loudly. "Oh, of course he is. I mean, why wouldn’t he be, what with the nice, little leash around his neck that happens to be attached to your waist."

"Dawn," Buffy warned but the brunette continued her rant.

"I wonder if he even has a will of his own. First he let Dru yank his chain for- what? - a hundred years and then you. I mean, a vampire in love with a slayer…"

"He's not a vampire anymore, Dawn," Buffy saw her sister's eyes falter, the steel glint of resentment gone for the moment.

"Buffy? How?"

"Long story that's his to tell."

The disdain was back in Dawn's eyes and she folded her arms protectively across her chest. "Doesn't matter. Just because the outside's changed doesn’t mean that he still doesn’t have that same bitter taste on the inside."

"Dawn," Buffy's tone was deep and warning as she strode purposefully over to her defiant sister. "What is wrong with you?" She placed her hands on her hips, her eyes locked in a stare down with the youngest Summers. Buffy waited several seconds until Dawn, giving up, rolled her eyes and walked towards the door. The slayer quickly grabbed her sister's arm in a firm grip.

"Hey," Dawn protested, trying to dislodge her arm from Buffy's tenuous grip to no avail. "Let go."

"Not until you answer my question. What is going on with you? Why are you being like this?"

"Being like what?" The former key questioned, though she dropped her eyes.

"Like this," the slayer responded, waving her hand between them. "So cold and unfeeling. This isn't you, Dawn," Buffy's tone softened a bit, "Talk to me, sweetie. You know you can."

Buffy saw the indecision in her sister's eyes and gently ushered her to sit on the bed. The tension boiled off of Dawn's skin and her eyes swam angrily with unwanted moisture. Buffy said nothing, only offering her support with an easy smile and stroking Dawn's hair lightly. She already knew what the problem was but, if Dawn was remotely like she had been, Buffy knew that her sister was going to have to make the conclusions on her own.

"Why is he here?" Dawn's soft voice broke the strained silence.

"Who? Spike?" Buffy knew that's who she was talking about, but wanted Dawn to say it herself.

"Yeah, Spike. Why is he here?"

"Because, I went to get him. I told you that a few weeks ago that I might…"

"That you might, Buffy. God, I didn’t think you were serious. How could you? How could you bring him back and not tell me? Hell, how could you even stand the sight of him?" Dawn's hands clenched and unclenched in her lap instinctively and the muscles in her jaw pulsed like a heartbeat.

"It's complicated, Dawnie," On the teen's disbelieving snort, Buffy continued, "I'm not even sure if I know why. I mean, yeah, I do know that I needed to see him; that I couldn’t leave things how they were. I know I needed to forgive him and the only way to do that was to confront him about it."

"But why, Buffy? Why forgive him? How could you? After what he did." The disbelief and genuine concern in her voice almost masked the disdain she still carried for Spike. Almost.

"Dawn, something that you don’t understand--and I still am coming to terms with--is that Spike wasn’t the bad guy in what happened. Yeah, he did an unthinkable and horrible thing, but not unforgivable."

"But how could you say that? He tried to rape you, Buffy. How could you possibly forgive that?"

Buffy closed her eyes at that, unsure how to answer. Oh, she knew the words she should say but knowing and saying were two entirely different things. She had told Dawn some of the horrible things she had said to Spike but none of the things she had done. She didn’t want her baby sister to look at her any weirder than Dawn already did but, at the same, Buffy didn’t want this obvious coldness that Dawn had against Spike to continue. Give it up, Buffy. You owe him that much, the slayer told herself.

"Because," she replied and stared Dawn right in the eye, "he forgave me for the things I did to him."

Dawn's eyes softened but she was not entirely convinced. "I know you said you did bad things to him--and that you were holding back on the details--but it wasn’t as bad as what he tried to do to you."

"You're right, Dawnie. It wasn’t as bad. It was worse."

***

Garrett checked his watch for the third time and noted that it had been only five minutes since Buffy had gone upstairs. He was hoping that Dawn would be back soon because, as much as he hated to admit it, the former vampire across from him unnerved him. It wasn't because the guy was a vampire, or former. Hell, he had been fighting the undead with Buffy and co. for almost a year--he had seen things much worse than vampires. But Spike was different. There was something about him, something primal and vicious, yet there was also an intelligence and cunning in his eyes that would have been disconcerting to the bank manager even if the title 'former vampire' did not apply.

Spike, on the other hand, was enjoying Garrett's discomfort, though the man was doing an admirable job hiding it. Actually, as much as his ego craved it, Spike knew that he wasn’t the only reason Garrett was jumpy. There was something between him and Buffy that she had neglected to tell Spike, and the Brit had an idea, albeit blatantly optimistic, of what the deal was.

"So, how are you and Buffy doing?" Spike asked casually. He noticed Garrett's ever so slight flinch at the mention of Buffy's name though the man forcefully relaxed his posture.

"Fine," he replied, lifting his chin slightly though Spike caught the briefest hesitation in his response.

"Fine? Is that it? Woman wears a moon rock like that and things are only fine? Will wonders never cease--I'm actually wishing Captain Cardboard would make an appearance," Spike instantly felt bad as he saw the naked look of pain that crossed the man's face before he covered it. Bloody soul, he thought derisively though a part of him knew that the soul wasn’t the only reason he felt empathy towards the man. It was the look, the same look he often felt after a particularly brutal dress-down by the slayer. If the man felt half as bad as Spike had, well--no, Spike wouldn’t wish that kind of heartache on anyone. Not even Peaches.

"So, Garrett," he said, changing the subject, "what do you do?"

The relief on the man's face was obvious and Spike congratulated himself for again considering someone else's feelings. Course, this will not be habit forming. It bloody well better not be.

***

Dawn listened in horror as Buffy explained her less than ideal relationship with Spike two years ago. When Buffy had told Dawn that her actions had been worse than Spike's deeds in the bathroom, Dawn had been understandably skeptical. Now, as Buffy wrapped up her tale, Dawn could do nothing but gape in astonishment, unsure of what to do or say.

"So you see?" Buffy asked amidst the tears and patted Dawn’s limp hands that rested in her lap. "That’s why it wasn’t too hard forgiving him. Because, as guilty as he was that night, it was my fault things got so out of hand in the first place." Buffy had told her almost everything except the most intimate details and, even now, she was debating whether or not to tell her.

"But what he did…" Dawn replied but trailed off, her own tears making it difficult to continue. Might as well tell her the rest, Buffy decided.

"I already told you, sweetie. There was no excuse for what he did that night. He was responsible for his own actions," even as she said it, Buffy winced. Holding Spike responsible for his own actions brought up painful memories of her first love and the things he had done when he had lost his soul. Can’t think about that right now.

"Dawnie, you know more than anybody what Spike can be like when he’s not trying to hide behind his Big Bad persona. He can be so thoughtful and attentive."

"Yeah," the younger Summers said, her voice distant from memories of a summer where hit had been her and Spike versus the world. Despite the circumstances, it had been the best summer she had ever had. He had really helped her begin to see what she was made of, the burgeoning young woman that was bound to appear. And now that young woman didn’t know how to feel about the person who had hurt her more than anyone in her life without even lifting a finger or spewing a harsh word at her.

But he had done something much worse than hard words or physical actions-he had betrayed her trust, utterly and completely.

Doing what he did to Buffy was unthinkable. Not only did he do that, but he wasn’t man enough to face her or Buffy afterwards. Dawn had always thought Spike was special, different, and all he had done was prove that he was just like all the others.

"Dawn," Buffy’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she turned toward her older sister. "I know that because…because he tried to be that way with me. You already know how I felt when I first came back, I’ve told you. It was too much, everybody wanting to be better when I didn’t think I could, telling me to perk up. But Spike-he let me be. I didn’t have to be cheerful or strong in front of him. He was the shoulder to lean on and the voice of reason as well. Sometimes he said things that I didn’t want to hear, but I listened nonetheless. And when we finally got…together, he tried to be the same attentive and caring guy but whereas I accepted that during our nightly talks, I wouldn’t-couldn’t-accept it during our more intimate moments. When he was soft, I was hard. When he tried to be tender, I forced the roughness. Everything he did, I turned it around on him. All I wanted was to feel…and, to me, ‘feel’ only meant the physical but to him it meant so much more. I used his feelings and emotions against him for my own selfishness and that was just as bad, if not worse, than what he tried to do to me in the bathroom."

They sat in silence for several minutes, Dawn’s eyes showing her conflicting emotions. Her reaction had been enough to tip Buffy that her words had had an effect on Dawn and that Dawn was no longer angry at Spike for his actions in the bathroom. Still, Buffy knew that Dawn was still hurt and angry at the one action that he was indeed successful at.

Leaving.

Buffy waited until Dawn was balanced enough to tell the teen what Buffy had told Spike earlier. She wanted to wait, but thought better of it, considering Summers’ women's’ propensity for their anger to multiply when issues weren’t ironed out sooner than later.

"Dawn," she began, her voice steady, "as much as I know he hurt you by what he tried to do to me, this isn’t all about that, is it?"

"What do you mean?" Dawn answered a little to quickly and Buffy noted the defensive tone.

"Don’t get me wrong, I know that made you mad, especially not hearing it from me." That much was true as well, considering Dawn still hadn’t forgiven Xander for telling her and even now she wasn't too warm towards him Of course, it was just another thing for Xander to hold against Spike.

"What I mean is, that as much as that hurt you, something else hurt worse. Something you never would have thought he would do."

"I think almost raping my sister classifies under the heading of ‘something I thought he would never do’." Buffy smiled, which made Dawn frown though the latter held her tongue.

"I know that. Believe me, I know. But there is something else that has nothing to do with me, isn’t it?"

"Like what?" she scoffed.

"Like the fact that he did what Dad did. And me. Like the fact he did what Mom did," Buffy’s throat constricted at the mention of their mother but she continued, sensing Dawn’s mounting fear of the truth being discovered.

"You’re wrong," she spat and motioned to get up but Buffy’s grabbed her wrist.

"He was the only person that has always been there for you…"

"No! You’re wrong," she yelled and struggled against her sister’s iron grip to no avail.

"The only person that never lied to you or treated you…"

"Stop! You don’t know what you’re talking about," she cried but Buffy continued.

"The only person that didn’t treat you like a kid but still…"

"Stop it! Just stop it!"

"But still loved you like one…"

"Buffy…" Dawn’s struggling was getting weaker and Buffy felt her shaking with emotion.

"He was everything that we couldn’t be…and he left." That was it. Once Buffy spoke those three words, Dawn collapsed to the floor in a heap of tears and sobs. Buffy, though tears were in her eyes, pulled Dawn’s head to her lap and let her cry, all the while stroking her little sister’s hair.

She smiled sadly at the scene, one that reminded her of the last time she had seen her sister cry a year and a half ago. Though they had been so close even then, that had marked the beginning of Dawn’s closure of hurtful emotions. She just hoped that now the opposite was true. All she wanted was for Dawn to be able to love and feel like she was now able to do. If her progress were any indication, it would take time. She just hoped, for Dawn’s sake, that her progression went more smoothly than her own. And considering Dawn had realized that she had loved Spike while it had taken Buffy a handful of years, the slayer was confident that things were well on their way to being normal again.

Well, as normal as could be with a slayer, a key and a former vampire.

Part VIII

"You know," Garrett's words curled through the silence. The two men had talked amicably for the last ten minutes with Spike telling Garrett about his life in San Diego while the latter man spoke of his travails in San Francisco and subsequent migration to Sunnydale. It was as if, for a handful of minutes, the two men had forgotten that they both loved the same woman. It was as if they were just two guys, chatting about, getting to know one another. There was no animosity, no jealousy or envy, no anger to get in the way of their words. For a short time, they could almost be considered 'friends'.

Spike glanced up as Garrett's mellow voice permeated the silence. He watched as the bronze-skinned man twirled a silver dollar across the knuckles of his agile fingers, grayish eyes transfixed on the tumbling currency.

"If you were still a vampire, I would have killed you, you know?" Finally, Garrett spared him a glance and Spike detected no malice or anger in his eyes--just the resigned truth. "For what you did to her," he clarifies, quite unnecessarily since Spike knew the direction of his words.

Impressed by the absence of fear in the man's eyes or voice, Spike's face contorted into his trademark smirk and Garrett returned the gesture.

"You would've tried," he informed before inhaling deeply. The scent of lilac swam through the air, tumbling through him, filling the once un-dead vampire with a warmth he had not felt in a hundred and twenty years. Not since Dru had purged humanity from his veins, forever banished from the muted sensations of humanity, had Spike felt so completely at ease. Not since he had held his Cassandra, little girl that she was, in his lap, reading to her by the fire, had he felt even a sliver of acceptance. He remembered the luminescent shine of her blue eyes as he read to her. Cassandra. His baby sister, the only one who never laughed at his verses. The only one who ever loved him without preamble. The only one whose heart was his and his alone.

"You would've tried," he repeated, his words hollow, dead. Like I used to be, he thought and a tired smiled etched his features. The lids shut on his cerulean orbs, enveloping him in the darkness that was his home for a dozen decades. A darkness that had bred a killer, a demon that possessed the passions of humanity, intertwined with the proclivities of a monster. A monster that fed off fear and suffering, pain and blood, superiority and dominance. A darkness that housed no room for remorse or regret. A darkness whose greatest purpose was to shield him from the consequences of his actions, laying waste to guilt, leaving room for only a shrug of his shoulders. But that darkness was gone now, obliterated by a simple phrasing of words, words that, in his mind, had meant one thing but something totally different in his heart. Guess that's where old Lurky was lookin'.

Spike shook his head, willing away the images of the seemingly endless days and nights of torture that had been his trials. Though he had told Buffy something of them, proudly even, he didn’t dare tell her of the worst ones-the 240 hours of reliving that moment in the bathroom, though with every passing hour, he had gotten closer to completing his assault. Halfway through the ten days, he had to watch, helplessly, as he took her over and over, her tears and blood mingling with his own fluids. Sometimes he ripped into her flesh with fangs, other times with blunt teeth, though never killing her, just adding to his own pleasure. It sickened him to watch (and feel his body) having her in every way. All the physical pains he had to endure were nothing compared to reliving that nightmare. He was surprised that his mind didn’t shatter from guilt. Even now, he had nightmares about, sometimes during the day, her broken and bleeding body, ravaged by him, more vivid than any of the real images of people he had killed and he couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he could do away with the guilt if he ever got to make love to her again…

"You there?" Garrett's voice slashed through the haze and Spike reeled himself from the bottomless pit of pain and anguish that had ensnared his waking thoughts.

"Yeah, mate," he said and sent a weary smile to the room's other occupant. Spike ran his tanned hands over his face and through his wispy brown locks, interlocking his fingers when his hands came to rest at the back of his neck. He expelled a shaky breath, the annoyance of being sucked into the familiar malaise of the past so quickly. But that was something he had lived with for the past two years and he doubted he would ever be rid of.

Garrett studied the man before him, somewhat confused of his own emotions. Never one to hate, Garrett had loathed the vampire Spike ever since Buffy had told him about Spike, though it had taken Xander to fill in the more--grimy--details. He had made a silent promise to Buffy to dust Spike if he ever showed up or, at the very least, tried. When Buffy had first told him of her intentions, Garrett had been incensed, though he had controlled himself admirably, resisting the urge to rant and rave, questioning her sanity (of course, the latter may have been his instinct for self-preservation but still…). He had listened and, in the end, despite her growing aloofness and desire to see the monster that had almost raped her, gave her his unconditional support. Still, he had wished for ten minutes alone with Spike so Garrett could punish him rightfully for his actions.

Now, as that same man--yes, man--sat not ten feet from him, Garrett could do nothing but feel a strange sort of kinship with Spike. The same pain and hurt that resounded within him was ever present within the former vampire, albeit magnified a hundred-fold.

Ex-vampire, Garrett mused and, for the tenth time since Spike and Buffy had returned, the Bank Manager wondered how Spike's new condition hadn't really surprised him. Oh, it had thrown him for a loop but he had recovered quickly, even throwing out a decently sardonic remark. He knew his face hadn't betrayed the momentary surprise he had felt seeing the sun brushing across Spike's back. Not only that, but he had been hurt by Buffy's lack of explanation though he understood her concern with Dawn and dismissed it. But one thing he couldn’t dismiss was the understanding of the former 'Big Bad'. Though nothing had been said about Buffy, Garrett couldn’t help but look at their conversation as a sort of non-alcoholic means of drowning their sorrows. Talking about each other’s work-related experiences of the last two years eased the tension and hostility that permeated between them. It would never be gone, however, since both knew that the other had-and always would have-a special place in Buffy’s heart.

“Why did you do it?” Garrett asked, his voice a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. Again, Spike needed no explanation to the topic, though the lack of malice in the other man’s voice puzzled him.

“Don’t know,” he replied and, for the hundredth time in the last two days, he wished he hadn’t set up a maximum cigarette quota for himself. Three a week just wasn’t enough, especially considering the unexpected circumstances of the last twenty-four hours.

“Actually,” he began after several moments of silence, “one of the first things I thought when I got back to my crypt was why I didn’t do it.” Spike noticed the slight hardening of the man’s jaw and he was impressed by Garrett’s ability to mask his feelings. Guess he’s giving me the benefit of the doubt, Spike thought, almost disbelievingly.

“Why?”

“Gotta understand, mate, I was a vampire then. Hundred plus years of guiltless, remorseless actions under my belt. I was used to taking what I want, no questions asked, no worries about a nagging in my gut afterwards. Even with Dru, when I ‘urt her, I felt bad when I did it, but gave it no mind after I apologized. But with Buffy…” his gaze shifted to the ceiling, “it was different. I felt bloody horrible, like I wanted to lie in a tub full of holy water, or sit in a sunny field, anything to get my mind off of what I had done. It was almost as bad as when she…” a lump formed in his throat and Spike trailed off, lost in thoughts of the past.

Garrett noted that this had been the second time that Buffy’s…disappearance had been brought up (or was about to be brought up, in this case) and he knew there had been something Buffy had not told him. It hurt him somewhat that she hadn’t confided in him about this, but he understood. There were some things that even the most honest of people kept from their significant other. Hell, he had his own fears and secrets he had refrained from telling her. Feelings that he’d deal with on his own.

He cast the thoughts aside and waited for Spike to compose himself. He watched as the sandy-haired man’s face blanked into an emotionless mask, though his eyes still carried a battery of emotions firing from within.

“Anyway, it hadn’t been the first time I’d felt bad about hurtin’ her. Though, the other times I thought I was helpin’ her. Turned out, I just ‘urt her in one instance, failed her in the other.” Garrett notice that, like his eyes, Spike’s voice betrayed the emotionless front that he was obviously shooting for. The raven-haired man said nothing, only nodding in understanding.

“Thing was, nothin’ I ever did was to hurt her intentionally,” he paused, as their history ran rampant through his mind, “well,” he re-phrased with a self-deprecating smile, “after I fell in love with her, that is. Point being, after that night, when I got to my crypt, I was lost, unsure of what I was.” It was not lost on Spike that he was sharing with a stranger the same things he had expressed to Rachel and Buffy. Why he felt so comfortable sharing it with Garrett was a mystery but he had the suspicion that it was from the mutual sympathy between them about being in a difficult place in their lives.

“I never wanted to hurt her, contrary to my actions. I was fractured between the man I wanted to be for her…and the monster I couldn’t be because of the chip.” Spike smiled at Garrett’s non-judgmental eyes and he couldn’t help but think that, were circumstances different, the man could have been a very good friend.

“So,” Garrett’s voice injected itself into the vein of silence, “you found a way to become human.”

Spike chuckled, and both were surprised in the sincerity of the sound. “Hardly, mate. Just goes to show you don’t know me too well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Good old Spike here never seems to break things down simplistically, ‘cept, of course, if it’s other people’s feelings. The thing is, my first bit o’ logic was to blame the chip. Halfway convinced myself that it was the reason I felt that way-buggerin’ up my feelings, it was. So I left that same night, determined to get the bloody thing removed. So I did some diggin’, found a demon that granted wishes and made a trip to good old Africa.”

“Seems like a wasted trip,” Garrett replied then held his hands up in peace on the dark look Spike granted him, “I mean, if you wanted to get her back.”

“Not sure I’m followin’ that train out the station, mate.”

“Okay, so you wanted to get the chip out, or so you thought at first, right?” Spike nodded. “Well, if you wanted to get it out, I assume you wanted to be able to get revenge on her…” he trailed off, waiting for Spike to understand what he was saying.

Spike’s eyebrows furrowed, unsure to where Garrett was heading. Did he know the chip didn’t work on Buffy? Because it was quite clear she hadn’t told him about her death-so how did she explain him being able to attack her in the bathroom? Well, Spike sure as hell wasn’t going to explain, so Garrett would just have to formulate his own conclusions.

His mind resumed its thought as to what Garrett mentioned about getting revenge on her. Assuming that Garrett knew the chip didn’t work on Buffy, Spike closed his eyes, bringing forth the conflicting thoughts he had had at the time. For a moment, he had indeed thought about attacking her, trying to kill her and the demon had the perfect plan; hurt her friends, to weaken her emotional state, thus distract her during the fight. An unconscious smile played at his lips as he deduced what Garrett had been getting at. There was no doubt in Spike’s mind that the man would have made a formidable vampire.

Seeing that Spike ‘got it’, Garrett began again. “So, if it was revenge that you wanted, you could have taken it out on her friends, am I right?”

“That you are,” Spike replied.

“Well, if it was revenge you were seeing, couldn’t you have summoned one of those vengeance demons?”

“You really know how to think evilly,” Spike quipped. Garrett smiled, knowing that Spike’s comment was quite an impressive compliment from an ex-vampire.

“Well, being a computer programmer on the side calls for logical thinking around problems. Calling a vengeance demon to grant you a wish seemed to have been the most straightforward course of action.”

“True,” Spike conceded. “The only thing is that I wasn’t half as convinced in my heart that revenge was what I wanted. My words and surface feelings may have told you otherwise but, in my heart, I knew I didn’t wanna cause her anymore pain.”

“So you, what? Had it in mind to turn human so you could have a soul?” Spike chuckled at the man’s obviously thought out reasoning before answering.

“To tell you the truth, mate, being alive was the last thing I expected. I mean, yeah, I did go to get the soul, so I could be worthy of her. The little installation of working parts was just an added bonus.” Spike refrained from calling himself human, knowing that he was anything but. Humans weren’t able to twist the heads off of demons or kick through brick walls or heal a gunshot wound to the stomach in a few days. But he wasn’t going to share that tidbit of info with Garrett, considering he had yet to inform Buffy of those particulars, though he had a feeling that she knew something was up.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t answer why you just didn’t go to a vengeance demon.”

“Vengeance demons,” Spike reiterated, tasting the word on his tongue. “See, the thing about those chits is that they are really particular as far as the vengeancy, or justice, thing goes. Has to be a warranted desire, or reason, for vengeance. In my case, there was none. To be honest, Buffy had more right to vengeance against me instead o’ the other way ‘round. Glad she didn’t go that route, though. Wouldn’t fancy havin’ me wrinklies sittin’ up in a jar on her mantelpiece.” Both men laughed, however cautiously, at that image. No, it wasn’t a comfortable thought in the least.

“So, why didn’t you come back?” Garrett asked after a few minutes of quiet. “I mean, you got what you wanted-a soul to be worthy of her-so why didn’t you come back?”

Spike sighed. What had started out as simple shoptalk had descended into an almost heart-to-heart, something the former vampire had not wanted. Running a hand through his curly locks, Spike faced the man in front of him, his blue eyes full of regret.

“Funny thing about getting the soul, mate-it only proved to me how unworthy I was of her. Spike, as a vampire wasn’t worthy. Spike as a human wasn’t worthy. I thought there was too much pain between us, most of it thanks to me, to have any semblance of a relationship. I knew Buffy wouldn’t let me forget about what I had done seeing as I wasn’t her precious Angel,” Garrett flinched at the anger and resentment Spike flicked out the name with. Though he didn’t know much about Angel, Xander had told him a little about the saga that was the Buffy-Angel story along with what he knew about the Spike-Angel hate wheel.

Spike forced the scowl that naturally accompanied his sire’s name fade and he continued, “I knew that coming back would only bring on painful memories for her and I had hurt her enough to last the rest of her life,” his eyes watered at the thought of the pain he had caused her. “I thought her life would be so much easier without me in it. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to offer her a normal life.” He nodded poignantly towards Garrett, “Looks like things worked out better for her.”

Spike’s words were not lost on Garrett and he could only nod back. That day at the Expresso Pump, when he had called Buffy out, was the first he had heard of Spike. Buffy told him quite a bit about their relationship, though Garrett had known she fuzzed up some of the details. It wasn’t until he saw her fighting some demons in the graveyard that she spilled the details on being a slayer and, later, on Spike’s true nature. Garrett wasn’t sure if Buffy knew or was in denial but he had known then that she loved Spike. Part of him had been wary in starting a relationship with her for the simple fact of her bond with the vampire had seemed to have been unresolved and Garrett had known, through experience, that someone with unresolved feelings for an ex was not someone to be starting a relationship with-it could only end in pain for both parties. But he had put conventional wisdom aside and took a leap of faith and had been, for the most part, content with the last year and a half. But now, seeing Spike in the flesh, the love that was in his eyes for Buffy coupled with Buffy’s distance over the last two months had Garrett doubting things more than ever. It didn’t help looking into Spike’s eyes, either. They shone with a love that Garrett had a hard time grasping, let alone feeling. And for the first time, he wondered if he was the right person to make Buffy happy.

“They’ve been up there awhile,” Garrett said, changing the subject. Spike smiled, understanding the tactic and appreciating it. “I wonder what they’re doing?”

“They’re sisters, mate,” Spike pointed out as if that explained it all. But Spike’s thoughts weren’t as confident as his words. They had turned from insecurity and pain thinking of Buffy to the anguish he had seen in his Bit’s eyes when she saw him in the kitchen. The guilt and self-loathing written on her face was only surpassed by what he had seen in Buffy’s eyes after he had attacked her. But whereas Buffy had forgiven him, Spike didn’t know if Dawn would. For as much as Buffy went to him for comfort, she never depended on him or looked up to him like Dawn had. The youngest Summers’ affection for him had extended well beyond a teenage crush. It was a sort of big brother/hero worship as well and when he had attacked Buffy-when he had left, he shattered everything that Dawn had felt for him. And even if he and Buffy, by the grace of God, got together, he didn’t think things would ever be the same between him and his Niblet.

“She loves you, you know?” Garrett’s words sliced through Spike’s malaise and his blue eyes blinked in confusion.

“Who?” He asked warily.

“Dawn,” Garrett replied with certainty.

Spike stared at the man in disbelief before he chuckled, shaking his head in resignation. “Not anymore, she doesn’t,” he responded, allowing the hopelessness of reacquainting himself with Dawn to finally sink in. The despair hung from his shoulders like a shroud, covering any signs of his earlier jubilance.

Garrett noticed the change in Spike’s demeanor instantly and was amazed that the same person who had not given up on Buffy (at least subconsciously) had so easily conceded defeat where Dawn was concerned.

“It’s easier that way, isn’t it?” Garrett said offhandedly.

“Probably is. Least this way, she won’t have to answer questions about her best friend’s ‘sexy’ accent.”

“I’m not talking about Dawn,” Garrett cleared and pointed a finger at Spike, “I’m talking about you.” Spike’s eyes shot up and the blue fury burned into Garrett though he did nothing to avert the hard gaze. He forced his emotions and tenseness from his body and waited for Spike to respond.

“Who the bloody fuck do you think you are?” Spike demanded, his voice low but hard. His eyes narrowed into slits and his shoulders hunched as if he were preparing to pounce. Spike’s posture was not lost on Garrett but the younger man held his ground firmly.

“Well, last time I checked my driver’s license…” but he was cut off.

“I’d cut it with the sarcasm if I were you and tell me where the fuck do you get off sayin that?” Spike was pissed, not only by what Garrett had said but also for his own folly in believing that he and the man were starting to get along. “You think it doesn’t hurt like a bloody stake in my chest every time I think about her? You don’t think I hurt knowing that hugging me will be the last thing on her mind when she graduates this weekend? You don’t think I wouldn’t do anything, including giving up my bloody soul, to just hear her say the words ‘I love you, Spike’ like she did when I took care of her two years ago?” Garrett felt a pang in his chest when Spike’s voice faltered but he stood firm.

“I can only imagine what it feels like, Spike,” Garrett conceded, “the pain you must be feeling. But I do know one thing, though. That pain you are feeling is a far cry from what you’d feel if you talked to her and you heard the hurt and disappointment in her voice, wouldn’t it?”

“Don’t need to hear it,” he said, leaning back into the chair, “I saw it in her eyes.”

“That may be so but the words would hurt a lot more than what you saw in her eyes and you know it. You know what I think? I think you’ve lived with pain for so long, anything that takes you out of that comfort zone ache in your chest is too much.”

“So I guess declaring my love to Buffy was too much, huh?”

“No,” Garrett replied curtly. Forcing his tone neutral, he continued. “That was a risky thing you did when you first told her and it’s even riskier now that you’ve come back to let her know. But Dawn is different. At least Buffy used to be your mortal enemy so the pain and or rebuke is somewhat expected. Well, at least it’s not out of the blue. But Dawn, she was never like that with you, I bet. From what I understand, she’s had a crush on you since day one and you’ve never really been in bad with her, am I right?” When Spike remained silent, Garrett continued. “You’ve been so many things to her. A crush. A hero. A best friend. You’ve been everything that’s she’s needed at the time she’s needed it and to see her disappointed in you, to hear her say how much you hurt her is almost too much to even think about much less hear. And you think you can’t handle it. And you know what? As long as you have that outlook, nothing will ever be right between you two again. Isn’t the potential pain worth it when you get to see her look at you with that look of adoration and wonder again? To know that you’ll always be in her heart, like she is in yours?”

Spike said nothing and instead took to studying his shoes. As much as he didn’t want to face the truth, he knew Garrett was right. He would journey to Hell and back if he had too if it meant he could see Dawn smile at him like she used to. No, the pain couldn’t be an excuse anymore. He had braved the trials with a stout heart, so why the change now? If he loved her like he knew he did, he would do everything in his power to win her trust and love back. She meant as much and, in some ways more, to him than Buffy did and he sure as hell wasn’t going to blow his relationship with her just because he was afraid of what she would say to him.

Decision made, Spike leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He wanted to forget about everything-Buffy, Garrett, the ring, his soul. There was only one thing he wanted on his mind; Dawn. There was a lot of groveling he’d have to do to win her back, but that didn’t scare him. Neither did the things he knew she’d say to him. The only thing that he wanted was to know the love of his Niblet again.

As he drifted into a light doze, he realized that that might not be too much to ask for after all.

***

As I hold Dawn's head gently in my lap, I try to block out the pain I feel listening to her heart wrenching sobs. It's not like I didn’t expect this…well, that's not true. I so did not expect the pain to be so raw and I guess that's because she never really showed it these past two years. I mean, we got really close but there were still things we never talked about, Spike being numero uno on that list. Actually, Spike was about the only thing we didn’t talk about, at least not after her breakdown a few months after he disappeared.

A sharp pang filters in my chest--right where the void his leaving had left in me. It still hurts, thinking about him leaving us, not coming back. He never even called or wrote to tell us if he was dust or not. Okay, so he's not a vampire anymore, but still. The point is that even though I told him earlier how bad it hurt me when he left, sharing the pain with someone equally as affected heightens the gash in my chest although it lessens it at the same time. Weird, I know but that’s me--weird Buffy with the abnormal boyfriends of the pointed-tooth variety. Stop it, Buffy; it’s not about me. Dawn needs me and I have to put my feelings on hold for her.

“Dawnie,” I whisper and cup her lowered head between my hands. The tears are soft against the flesh of my palm but they burn me like the pain of my baby sister always has. Seeing her in such pain hurts me so much that I sometimes can’t even form thoughts on it. But like so many other things, I can’t let it affect me now-she’s depending on my strength and I will give as much of it to her as I’ve got.

“Dawn look at me,” I say firmly but not without sympathy and lift her chin from my lap so I can look into her eyes. The sight of those luminescent, tear-filled eyes staggers me and I forget what I was going to say for several seconds. Finally, breaking the haze, I steel my resolve while fighting through my own teary vision.

My hands move to her shoulders, coaxing her to sit on the bed and she complies absently as I can see it in her eyes that she’s still not all there. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and lay the other hand on her thigh, patting it lightly. It takes a few moments before I think she’s up to talking and I wait patiently, desperately trying to ignore the tingling at the base of my skull knowing that my ex-lover and pseudo-fiancé are downstairs, unsupervised. It’s not like I don’t trust them or anything cuz, hey, they are adults. They are grown men…who just happen to be in love with the same woman.

Oh, God. I can’t believe I left them alone. Sigh. Well, at least I haven’t heard anything breaking…

Several sniffles from Dawn let me know that she is done crying and I focus my attention back to my beautiful little sister.

“Hey,” she says, offering me a weak smile.

“Hey, snot girl,” I reply and she lowers her eyes, her smile growing just a fraction. “So, how are we feeling?” I ask and she snorts, very unladylike, I might add.

“Like my brains’ll come out if I blow my nose.”

“And may I say ‘ewww’ to the imagery.” We both laugh at that, genuine laughs that belie the hurt we’re both feeling.

“Well, you’d say the same thing if your head felt like this,” she says, defending herself. I give her my trademark sisterly smirk that…Smirk? Smirk? Since when do I have a trademark smirk?

Ignoring my wandering thoughts, I turn a serious eye to her. “So, how are you feeling?” She lowers her eyes, the temporary mirth gone from her angelic features. When she speaks, her voice is low but I can still hear it clearly.

“It hurts so much.” She looks up at me and those aquiline eyes of hers fill with tears again. “I didn’t know anything could hurt this bad,” she drops her eyes and I can tell she feels ashamed. “I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”

I cup her cheek in my hand and make her look me in the eye again. “Dawn, listen to me; you are not pathetic in any way. Just because you’re hurting so bad doesn’t…” but I never finish as she shoots to her feet, anger in her eyes. But it’s not directed at me and, when she speaks, I see that it’s not directed at Spike, either.

“Aren’t I?! My sister and mother died, Buffy, within months of one another and I’m here now, feeling worse than I did then because someone else left me. Somebody that wasn’t even related to me. Hell, he wasn’t even human! And here I am,” she puts her hand to her chest, “feeling something in here so raw that I want to rip it out of me. How can I not be pathetic?” Her hands drop to her sides and it’s obvious that she’s fighting for control of her emotions. I stand up slowly and walk over to her. I take her hands in mine and look up into her eyes, offering her a sad smile.

“You feel guilty.”

“What do you mean?”

“You feel guilty that Spike leaving hurt more than when Mom and I died,” when she averts her eyes, she tells me everything I need to know. “Dawn,” I coax and she looks down at me though she won’t meet my eyes. “Don’t feel guilty.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Her voice is so soft and is filled with self-loathing.

“Dawnie, you can’t help how you feel.”

“I should. How can I feel worse that he left than when two people I loved so much died? What does that say about me?”

“That you loved him just as much as you loved me and Mom.” Her mouth opens, ready to protest, but she closes it in defeat. Well, at least she’s not denying it.

“Yeah,” she throws out bitterly before taking her hands out of mine and walking over to the window. “ ‘Loved’ being the operative word.” Her forearms rest on the sill and she stares up at the sky. I follow her over there and mimic her pose. We stand there, silently for a few minutes, enjoying the brief reprieve and admiring the beauty that the world can be. Birds are chirping, soaring through the bright sky, into the green shrubs and trees that are their homes. The thick smell of freshly cut grass wafts through the window and I am reminded of simpler times, when we lived in LA. There was no slayer, no vampires or demons, no Scoobies and no Hellmouth. Just me, Mom, Dad and Dawnie. It seems like two lifetimes ago…wait, it is. Things were so much easier back then but-I don’t know. I hear the distant purr of a cat (I wonder if he’s stuck in a tree) and the cacophonous barking of dogs and I smile. Even in nature, chaos is a natural order, mixed with a perfect harmony that only Mother Earth can produce. It’s funny how all the order and chaos mirror how my life is now. And I used to think, before Sunnydale, that I would die if I didn’t have the right dress for Homecoming or the particular shade of lipstick. I miss those times, I really do. But you know what? As much as I complain about it, my life isn’t too bad. Aside from Mom dying, there’s not much I would change about it.

“You know,” I say, never taking my eyes off the white clouds floating through the sky, “I still love Angel.” I feel Dawn’s eyes bore into me and I catch her mouth open. I can imagine what she’d look like head on but I don’t give in to the curiosity.

“Umm, okay…” she replies, unsure of an appropriate response.

“I’m not gonna say that there still aren’t some lingering feelings of hurt and resentment that I have, but that’s not because of him. Not, really at least,” I wave my hand in front of me, brushing a fly away. “What I mean is that, despite what he did-Angelus aside-leaving me, I still love him.”

“He was your first love,” Dawn supplies.

“Yeah,” I admit, “but it’s not just that. It’s about loving someone, truly loving someone. It goes beyond crushes or infatuation and, to be honest, it doesn’t have to be romantic, either."

"What do you mean?"

"When you love someone, Dawnie, really love someone, you will always love them. No matter what they say or do, a part of you will always care for them. Now that's not to say that you'll always have warm, fuzzy feelings about them or anything. Just that when you admit to yourself that you love someone, they will always have a place in your heart, no matter how bad they may turn out to be.

"And then," I continue after another prolonged silence, "there are those just make mistakes. They hurt you in ways you can't imagine, but they don’t do it out of malice. They just screw up and hurt you in the process. Sometimes, that is worse than someone purposely hurting you."

"How so?"

"Because, at least when someone does something intentional to hurt you, you can always convince yourself that he or she didn’t love you as much as you thought. And though that may not be the case, it's easier convincing yourself of that than the other side."

"The other side where someone tries to rape your sister and then leaves you when you need him most," I smile at Dawn's deadpanned expression and notice that a big part of the anger is gone from her voice. Still, if she's as stubborn as I am, there are still some arguments yet to be made. So, I try a different tactic.

"Dawn, remember the whole dancing demon thing?"

"Uh, almost-bride-to-be here," she replies with a wave of her hand.

"How many people do you think died during that whole disco inferno fiasco?" She wrinkles her eyebrows and offers me a blank look before hunching her shoulders in defeat.

"From what Giles found out, eight. Now, do you remember how it all got started?"

"Xander wanted to see if he and Anya would work…" she trails off and her eyes shine with understanding. Good, my point's getting across.

"Do you hate Xander for what he did? Or Willow?" A momentary frown lines her face as the mention of Willow but it quickly disappears. It took Dawn awhile to forgive Willow for almost turning her back into the Key and, even now, Dawn doesn’t like talking about that.

"No," she concedes. I reach over to her and run my hand through her hair, getting lost in its silky texture. The look of innocence on her face reminds me of our childhood, when I would take her to the mall with my friends. She would always be so happy that 'Big Sis' was taking her. She was so innocent back then, unaware of the dangers of the world. Well, so was I, but Dawn was never fated to fight the forces of darkness, it just so happens that her sister is.

"Dawn," I say and watch as she turns teary eyes to me, "you have to forgive. You have to forgive Spike. Not just because he needs it, but because you do to." She stares at me as her eyes start to overflow with tears and, in seconds, she is in my arms once again.

"I don’t want him to leave again," she cries into my shoulders, "I don’t want him to leave."

"Me neither, Dawnie," I confess, fighting back tears, "me neither."

***

The sound of two pair of footsteps on the stairs startled Spike from his nap and he bolted to his feet. Garrett removed his arm from over his eyes and studied the obviously nervous man across from him.

Buffy came down first and Spike watched as her hair bounced on her shoulders, pleased that she had taken it out of the ponytail. She wore the same outfit as before though her makeup was a bit fresh. He scanned her eyes and noticed the slight puffiness around the edges, immediately knowing that she had been crying. His first instinct was to go to her and he took a step in her direction but stopped when Dawn came in behind her, bag in hand.

Spike stared at his Niblet with fright and awe. On the one hand, he didn’t know if he could take another dose of her disgust and he was at first hesitant to make eye contact. But that thought quickly diminished as he took in completely the young woman that had taken her place.

To say she was beautiful was an understatement and Spike could only liken her to his imagination of what the radiating light from an angel would be like. Her brown hair was curled and most of it hung over her right shoulder. The dark blue shirt and jeans she wore clung to her curves and Spike was privy to how much she had filled out in two years. But it wasn’t just her curves that he noticed.

Her posture was different, bolder. In it he could see that she had tapped into the power that was within her and he smiled at his eternal rose, for that's what she was to him. As long as he lived, the picture of Dawn as she stood now would never fade, never be replaced. Even if she spurned him, never to talk to him again, he would be at peace knowing that she had grown to be a capable woman with the power to make a difference in the world.

Dawn saw the fear and complete adoration in Spike's eyes and all she wanted to do was fling herself into his arms and forget the last two years. But she couldn’t do that, Buffy had told her as much before they had come down. There was a lot to work out between the two of them and Buffy had advised her to take things slowly, not trying to overlook any feelings she had. Of course, she wondered if Buffy was following her own advice.

"Oh screw it," she muttered before dropping her bag and running over to her best friend. Spike was just able to right himself before they both tumbled to the floor. Strong arms and legs enveloped him and he was lost in the refreshing scent of raspberries and the fragrance that was Dawn. No words were spoken, only silent sobs as both Key and ex-vampire clung to one another as if their lives depended on it. They didn’t care how they looked for the simple reason that, at that moment, they were to only two people in the world.

Garrett smiled at the surprising reunion, glad that Spike could relieve at least a modicum of the pain that was inside of him. His smile faded when he turned to Buffy. Tears shown in her hazel eyes as she took in her sister and former lover's embrace. In her gaze were happiness and bliss…and a longing. Garrett wasn't sure exactly what it was for, but it was there nonetheless. You know damn well what it's for, a part of him thought and that was indeed true. Not admitting it didn’t change the fact that he knew she still cared for Spike and not in a just-friends sort of way and for the countless time, Garrett wondered if their hiatus had anything to do with Buffy's unresolved feelings for Spike. Don’t have to wonder anymore, now do I?

Finally, after what felt like a mere instant and eternity alike, Dawn disentangled herself from Spike and he rested his hands on her hips. Both their eyes were filled with tears though only Dawn's had filtered down her cheeks. Spike tentatively raised a hand to her face, brushing his knuckles across her cheek. He smiled when she closed her eyes and leaned into the gesture, a sob catching at the back of his throat.

"Dawn," he managed with difficulty. On her name, Dawn opened her eyes and stared into the blue pools of love that gazed at her in wonder. For an instant, she thought everything would be back to normal, easy as pie but as she peered into Spike's eyes, she saw the scars of things she couldn’t even fathom. She took a step back instinctively and her stomach knotted at the hurt that flashed across Spike's face.

Spike's chest burned when Dawn moved away but he hid it was well, all things considered. It had hurt him as much, if not more, than some of the things Buffy had said to him earlier. And like Buffy, Dawn had a right to be pissed, if not totally disgusted with him. If she never wanted to see him again, it wouldn’t be too great a punishment…

His thoughts were interrupted as an open hand collided with his cheek and his head rocked at the slap.

"Dawnie," Buffy said and started for the two until Spike stopped her with a glance. She nodded, understanding that this was what they both needed.

"You left," Dawn said and Buffy noticed that only a sliver of contempt from earlier made it into her tone.

"Dawn," he began again before her open hand smacked him in the face for the second time. He lowered his eyes, not ready to see the hatred from her eyes for a second time. The tears he had forced at bay sixty seconds ago now slid freely down his angular cheeks to his black shirt that suckled at the moisture. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to die. No torture could ever recreate the pain that threatened to erupt from his breast and he could imagine that this was what hell felt like.

His shoulders began to shake and he didn’t feel the strong arms encircle him in a protective embrace. All he knew was that he was safe from the torture in these loving arms and, with that, Spike melted into Dawn.

As she held him, the young woman bit her lip in disgust at what she had done, though the anger demanded release at that moment. The weight of it had been lifted from her heart, though a lot of pain remained. But that, too, would disappear after she and Spike truly talked. They had time to do that because, despite a list of insecurities, she knew he would never leave her again. Even if he wasn’t whispering it over and over into her ear, she knew he would always stay with them. He had to. He was as much a part of her family as Buffy and, in some ways, even more so. He was the one she could always count on, the one who never talked down to her. He had been her rock when Buffy had died, instilling her to live more than Buffy’s last words to her ever could. He had been the only constant in her life then, and to have him gone for so long without a word? Like she had told Buffy, Dawn never realized something could hurt so badly. But as bad as it hurt, it would be better now. Spike would make it better.

He always did.

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