The moment she walked into the living room, Buffy knew there was going to be trouble. The three newcomers gaped at her daughter before they turned disbelieving eyes towards her. Cordelia's mouth opened and closed like a fish while Faith stood with her arms crossed, staring back and forth between Buffy and the Bitlet. But Angel's pained expression was what attracted the slayer's attention.

His eyebrows were scrunched together in deep thought and his eyes sparkled with hints of betrayal. His chest heaved as he took in unnecessary breaths and he glanced from Buffy to Faith and back again before he uttered a single word.

"Buffy…" The slayer cringed at the anguish in his tone. It was a recreation of how he had said her name when she had thrust a sword into him to stop Acathla. Though the guilt that churned in her stomach was not near the intensity of that one moment, it was still present. And as selfish as it may have been, Buffy hated the fact that it was there at all.

"How…?" Angel asked and for the first time Buffy looked at her daughter and noticed the distress in Faith's posture as she eyed Angel warily. Worried, Buffy started towards her daughter but was intercepted by Angel.

"Buffy?" He asked again and this time there was an unmistakable hint of accusation in his tone.

"I'd back off if I were you, mate," Spike growled and stood next to Buffy, ready to strike. The slayer could sense her lover's volatility and she pulled his hand into hers and squeezed gently. She was relieved when his body relaxed and he stared at her with an indescribable tenderness that made her wonder how someone could love her so completely despite all the things she had done. It was at times like this, when his love was the most potent that felt the least deserving of it.

"Angel." Cordelia's voice tore Buffy's gaze from her lover and she refocused on her ex. She watched as the brunette stroked Angel's back soothingly and the effect it had on him. Much like Buffy's touch had done with Spike, Cordelia's presence had called the dark vampire and Buffy noticed the anger fade into the background of his glare.

"So," The former May Queen said, her enthusiastic voice a polar opposite of the somber atmosphere, "are we gonna find out what the hell is going on here anytime soon?"

*&*

"So," Cordelia said from her seat next to Angel on the couch that they shared with the two Wiccas. "Faith is Buffy and Spike's daughter from the future. She was sent in back to change things--" on several protesting looks, she held her hands up, "at least that's one of the theories. Now, sent back to "retrieve" her was Seth, a bad ass bloodsucker--no offense." she said to Angel and gave Spike a perfunctory glance.

"None taken," Spike replied sarcastically and the former cheerleader rolled her eyes before she continued the summation.

"Anyway, this Seth guy teams up with Mrs. Calendar…who is actually the First in human form. The First has Seth bring Dawn--who is a mythical Key…"

"Was," the teen reminded and didn’t try to hide the annoyance in her tone.

"Sorry. 'Was' it is, then. So, the First does this ritual where she joins with Dawn and they become like this all-powerful One being whose powers Dawn can't tap into now but was the reason that Faith was sent back here in the first place. How am I doing so far?"

"Splendid," Buffy said, mimicking the irritation her sister had displayed seconds before.

"Cordelia," Giles said before the woman could get back to her recitation. "As much as I'd love to hear every single detail that's been given about this whole situation, I must remind you that there are far greater things to worry about than making sure you've gotten every aspect of the story correct."

"Amen to that," the dark-haired slayer muttered and received a scathing glare from the seer. She laughed at Cordelia's displeasure before she spoke. "Relax, 'Queen C', I was just screwing with ya."

"No you weren't," Cordelia responded.

Faith shrugged and pushed off from the wall she was leaning against. Buffy had noticed that the once rogue slayer had made sure to keep her distance from the others and Buffy had no problems with that.

"G-man's right," Faith said and snapped Buffy out of her wandering thoughts. "We've all heard the spiel not five minutes ago and, considering the serious bit of terror and death popping up when I close my eyes at night like a good little girl, recapping what we've just been told is the last thing we need to be wasting our time with."

Buffy stifled a giggle when Cordelia cut her eyes at the brunette slayer and the blonde reluctantly pulled her hand away from Spike's, the first time she had released it since he had nearly jumped over her to get at Angel.

Speaking of Angel, she thought as her eyes fell on her first love. When she had come clean about Faith, any trace of emotion had been wiped from his face and Buffy winced slightly at the coolness that now glossed his eyes. Unfortunately, Spike had detected her reaction and when he squeezed her hands in question, his eyes, unlike Angel's, told her how hurt the platinum blonde was. Thankfully, he had kept it hidden from the others though his gaze never wavered from the floor until now.

I'll make it up to you, she whispered with her eyes before turning away from him and re-adorning her slayer cowl.

"Giles and Faith are right, Cordy. You heard me right the first time about who Faith is and where she came from. If you need a rehash of it, we can give it to you later but now we need to focus on whatever it is that's coming." Buffy turned towards the brunette slayer and tried not to show the hostility she still held for the other woman.

"Faith, you said you've had slayer dreams, too?"

"That would be a yes," she replied with her former bravado except that Buffy saw right through it. The other woman was shaken by the simple thought of what her dreams had held and if they were as bad as Buffy's, well the blonde didn’t blame her one bit.

"Giles, do you want to take Faith in the kitchen, have her tell you what she remembers?"

"Yes, I think that would be appropriate," the Watcher affirmed and sat up before walking over to the young woman. He touched her on the shoulder and she flinched. Buffy couldn’t tell whether it was from fear or surprise at the comforting touch but decided to put it out of her mind as the Watcher led the young woman out of the room.

"Wills, Tara, Dawn. I really don’t think we really need to discuss anything else. You might as well…" Buffy stopped as a bought of dizziness overcame her but before she righted herself two strong hands gripped her hips.

"There now, luv," Spike said and at his soothing voice Buffy instinctively leaned against him.

"Mum," Faith asked and got up from where she was sitting on the arm of the recliner. "Are you okay?"

Buffy smiled tightly, thankful for Spike's support and her daughter's concern. "Fine, Bitlet," she said and was greeted with a tentative smile from the young woman. "Just a little dizzy is all."

"Maybe you should get some rest," Tara offered and Willow squeezed the Wicca's hand in affirmation.

"Tara's right. You just got out of the hospital today and you've been going every since you got home."

"Hospital?" Angel asked after a questioning glance at Cordelia.

"Yeah, Buffy," Dawn said. It was her first time speaking since Angel and the others had arrived. "It's not like you just had a bump on the head or something. You were in a coma for almost two months.

"Excuse me," Angel said loudly, breaking up the huddle. "But what the hell is going on here?"

Buffy frowned at Angel's outburst before pulling away from Spike and looking him in the eye. She didn’t even ask the question before he answered with a sheepish yet defiant smile plastered across his face.

"Sorry, pet," he said and shrugged, "but there was a failure on our part to communicate your--situation to the Poof."

Ignoring the irresistible urge to slap that infuriating smirk off Spike’s face, Buffy shook her head before glancing at Angel. Oh, if she thought he was furious earlier, there were no words to describe the look in his eyes now. Of course this time his anger was focused on a particularly smug William the Bloody instead of her and Buffy couldn’t help but breath a sigh of relief to that.

Still, she thought, I’ve got to do some damage control.

"Fine," she said and pinned Angel with a warning glance, "I’ll fill Angel in on what happened and-" she heard Spike about to protest but held up her hand and he wisely closed his mouth albeit reluctantly. "And the rest of you can go to sleep. Cordy, you can rest on the couch for the time being. I’m assuming you guys made reservations for lodgings. I would offer you to stay here but it’s already ‘Full House’."

"It’s fine, Buffy," Cordelia smiled and glanced at the seething elder vampire, "we made arrangements. Don’t worry about us."

Buffy nodded and turned to Angel. "You wanna go outside?" His brown eyes finally dropped from Spike and down to her. They softened slightly and he answered her with a nod before stalking out the room, leaving the others in a blanketed silence.

"Okay," Dawn said, "can we say groucho. I knew there was a reason I never liked him."

"Dawn," Buffy warned.

"Niblet’s right," Spike said and Buffy turned to her lover. His eyes widened at the anger dancing in her hazel eyes and he opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to it.

"I can’t believe you didn’t tell him I was in a coma." Buffy saw the hurt and insecurity flash across his cerulean eyes but his trademark cockiness and insolence quickly covered it.

"Sorry, luv," he said, "but my mind was a bit preoccupied by you and Glinda layin’ up in bed unconscious. And I was makin’ sure that Rupes and Bitlet were healin’ nice and proper-like. So forgive me if I didn’t make it a priority to make sure the pedantic Poof was kept in the loop." Buffy flinched at the harshness of his words and, although she knew that he was right, anger got the better of her at his less than friendly tone.

"God, you just don’t get it, do you?"

"Guess I don’t, luv," he whispered flippantly, making her even angrier.

"Angel is important to me, do you get that? We may not be friends, as someone once said, but that doesn’t mean he’s out of my life."

"And whose fault is that?" Spike replied heatedly. "Whose fault is it that you compare everybody else to that soddin’ Neanderthal. ‘Oh Angel wouldn’t do this, he would do that’," he mocked and plastered a dreamy look to his face that infuriated Buffy even more.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Mum?" Faith said, attempting to break up the impending meltdown.

"Wrong with me?" Spike asked, offended. "What’s wrong with me is that I’m always the one giving the bloody concessions. What’s wrong with me is that I never do things for myself but for you."

"So that’s my fault?"

"Buffy…" Willow murmured but was interrupted by Spike’s snarky reply.

"Of course not, Slayer. Nothing is ever your fault. You never do anything wrong and neither does your precious Angel. It’s amazing you two lovebirds still aren’t together."

"Well maybe if we were I wouldn’t have to deal with your shit," she replied and instantly regretted it. The anger and indifference instantly melted from Spike’s face and his shoulders drooped noticeably. His eyes glistened with unshed tears and it was identical to the look he had given her after she broke it off.

God, am I that vindictive? She asked herself and took a step towards Spike, her hand out to cup his face but he stepped back and turned away. She couldn’t hide the hurt on her face but his eyes never took her in. Shaking his head, Spike through on an obvious façade of cockiness and addressed the slayer.

"Well, now that you mention it, Slayer, this place is quite cramped. Reckon I’ll vacate the premises for a spell." He sauntered out the room and Buffy followed.

"Spike, wait," she said as he wiggled into his duster.

"Sorry, Slayer," he said coolly, "things to do, demons to kill." He swung open the door and bumped into Angel who was standing on the porch.

"What the…" Angel began and turned to Buffy.

"Just leave it, Angel" she muttered and watched Spike’s lithe form flee into the night. "Just leave it."

*&*

The scuff of his boots against the concrete was a welcome distraction for the morose vampire. The consistent scraping was the only thing that cut into the chaotic thoughts that swirled together in his brain. He was used to the ambivalent emotions that assaulted him in his Slayer’s presence but to have her push his sense into overload in such a short amount of time was an accomplishment even for her.

"Bloody Kewpie doll for the Slayer," the vampire spat as he slipped another fag into his mouth. Stopping briefly to light it, he resumed his journey through town, thankful for the bitter yet calming flavor of nicotine as it slunk down his throat.

What has she done to me? He thought. What have I become for her? Am I even myself anymore? There was no need to respond the question because he already knew what the answer would be. Spike knew with a resentful finality that the demon of lore that had plowed into Sunnydale nearly five years ago was gone. Even the lost vampire of two years back had been altered, twisted by the slayer’s will to be nothing more than a lovesick puppy to be kicked and rewarded as she saw fit. She cared for him in that same way but she would never look at him as she did Angel. She would never worry about disappointing Spike, oh no; he was too far beneath her to disappoint.

Spike angrily hurled the cigarette to the ground, stomping it into oblivion hoping that the minute violence could satiate the tightness in his undead chest. Removing his foot from the obliterated fag, the vampire let out a primordial scream that echoed up and down the empty street. His throat burned as he gave voice to his frustration, the stress on his vocal cords a welcome disruption from the screaming questions that his brain continued to shove at him.

What does she see in me?

Does she love me?

Will she always love me?

Will she find someone else-someone normal after she tires of me?

What happens if Angel’s soul is ever restored permanently?

Why am I behavin’ like a soddin’ wanker?

At that last question, Spike’s roar of frustration fizzled into a guttural chuckle that, after several minutes had progressed into full-blown laughter. There was no humor in it, however; only the promise of safety from the tears that beckoned to be released. Why could she turn him inside out so easily? Yes, he could admit that he had always been the emotional type-something Angelus despised-but the way Buffy made him want to cry sometimes was beyond his nature.

"Don’t ‘ave too much o’ my nature left," he whispered to the surrounding silence. He had never been one to follow the expectations of society--whether the upper-crust Londoners of the past nor the vampiric traditions of his second life-but to have stumbled so far off the trail for the love of a woman, the woman, was completely...

"Me," he admitted with a sigh. As much as he fought against it at times of insecurity, times such as tonight, Spike understood and, for the most part, accepted his proclivity to be ruled by the heart. It had been his undoing as a human yet his salvation as a vampire. Of course there were times that he wished nothing more than to have the feelings desert him, to have the ability to burn the poet’s heart that still resided within him into ash.

"You poofter," he scolded. Fact of the matter was, Spike knew that his entire being revolved around love and if he didn’t have that he'd be nothing more than another empty shell of filth--like Angelus and that was a comparison he did not take a liking to.

No, Spike didn't want to change that part of him just because Buffy had hurt him. As much as he was complaining, he didn’t doubt her when she said she loved him. Her embrace of her feelings for him had been obvious the last time they had made love--not shagged, not screwed, not fucked--made love. The glaze of her eyes as she stared into his; the gentle kisses and caresses she ingratiated him with were still fresh in his mind. She didn’t hesitate to show him casual affection, either with a brief squeeze of his hand or making out in the hospital garage. And the love in her eyes when she looked at him. No, she loved him all right and he'd be a fool if he didn’t see it. But she hadn't given him the one thing he never thought would make a difference but tonight had showed him how important it was.

She still didn’t trust him.

Oh, she trusted him in battle as well as with the lives of her and her friends. But what she didn’t trust was his judgment on the mundane things. He understood how not calling Angel may have looked but the truth of the matter was that Spike had been too preoccupied with other things to bother with filling the poof in. But, no, Buffy hadn't seen it that way. To her it was just another macho thing for Spike, proving that he had the ins with the slayer instead of Angel. And as much as Spike wanted to flaunt his new relationship in front of his Sire, he wouldn’t do it. Well, not overtly, at least since the last time with Riley hadn't quite worked out for Spike's benefit.

Spike ran a shaky hand through his tousled locks and sighed in frustration. He had thought that Buffy loving him was the greatest thing he could ever have and, in most ways, that was true. He never thought having her trust would cause such a rift inside of him but it was there. The gaping hole that had opened after she rejected him had been filled when she had reiterated her love for him that first night in the hospital. But knowing that he didn’t have her complete trust had made an incision in that part of him he thought was fulfilled with her love. And it was only a matter of time until that incision widened to a larger fissure that would again pull him to the brink of oblivion.

Would he ever have all of her? Would she trust him implicitly like she had Angel or would Spike have to accept living in the former's shadow? As much as he loved Buffy, Spike wasn't sure if he could…

His thoughts were cut off by a bone-rattling scream and Spike fell into a defensive stance. He scanned his surroundings, noticing that he was at the entrance of Heberly cemetery but instincts told him that the scream had not originated so close to him. And if his ears were correct, the sound was coming a mile or so down the road from Shady Groves.

The scream echoed again and Spike flinched from the pain inflected in the cry. If there was something he understood with crystal clarity was how the different levels of pain changed the scream. And judging from the pitch of the last cry, this person was in a hell of a lot of pain.

"A bloke's work is never done," the vampire muttered and, grabbing a stake from the pocket of his duster, took off towards Shady Groves.

It was always quiet this time of night. The incessant chirp of insects and the periodic whine of a car in the distance were often the only sounds that were guaranteed to carry through the night. Every so often spring winds sailed through the streets as well, dancing with the leaves and bushes, skating along the grass. Although she rarely got to enjoy such peaceful nights, Buffy often found herself wishing for them nonetheless. It was a reminder that all things in this world were not bad, were not violent, ugly, and cruel. Sometimes, after a long night of slaying, she forgot that. Last year, between her mother's illness and Glory's quest for the Key, Buffy had forgotten what there was in the world to enjoy. As much as she loved Dawn, Buffy couldn’t take comfort in that love, nor the love of her friends. The only times she had felt a semblance of peace were the stolen moments with Spike. As much as she denied it then she could admit it now. Even before he allowed Glory to torture him, Buffy had stopped seeing him as a killer and more of an ally. In fact, she remembered how he was there for her the night Dawn had found out that she was the Key and had fled into the night.

The truth of his words from earlier at the crypt slams into her brain and she bites back the sob clamoring to be heard. She stares at the ground as the tears slowly overwhelm her resolve. "You were right," she whispers. "This is my fault. I should have told her."

"Buffy?" The sound of her name snapped the slayer from her thoughts and she glanced at the figure sitting next to her on the steps. Angel. She'd forgotten that he was here with her, awaiting her explanation of things. She sighed, glancing out into the night sky. God, she wished Spike was here, at her side, comforting her with his presence alone. Only he could tell her what she needed to hear without patronizing her. He could go from wanting to blow her brains out--literally--to patting her on the back, sitting in silence as she poured her fears out to him.

And you just pissed it away, didn’t you? She thought and sighed heavily.

"Buffy?" Angel called again and turned his body towards her. "Are you all right?"

Buffy chuckled humorlessly at the question and ran her hands through her hair. "All right?" There were so many ways to answer that question. There was the truth, the not-so truth and the blatant lie. She was familiar with the latter two but the former--well she wasn't quite the expert on relaying her feelings to others unless it was in anger or frustration.

Well, whatta ya know? There's a bit of those two healthy emotions sprinkled in with my totally cocked up mind right about now, she thought blandly. Of course, she didn’t think she could actually be that honest.

"I haven't been all right for a long time, Angel. My job title ensures me that I'm never all right. I don’t even know if I have it in me to know when things are all right." She covered her face with her hands. Hands that had loved and spilt blood. Hands that had hit loved ones in anger yet also hands that had cared and caressed for those same loved ones. These hands had done so much, felt so much pain and too little joy, when would it end? When would things get to the point where she could answer with a welcome finality that she was truly all right?

"Buffy," Angel said after several minutes had passed, "What's going on? With you and Spike." She turned to her former lover and saw that, despite the neutral tone of his words, there was a decidedly angry tint to his brown eyes. A part of Buffy froze at that look, terrified at the thought of Angel being so mad, so disappointed in her. The larger part of her, however, was angered that something inside of her would always seek his approval.

I can't live my life like this she thought morosely and studied the chipped paint of her fingernails. I have to move away from this for myself and for…Spike.

Buffy turned sideways on the steps and pulled her legs to her chest with her arms. She rested her chin atop her knees and stared at Angel.

"When Willow brought me back, everything was so hard. It was like I was in a daze, or in some sort of state of drunkenness I was so numb. It was like I was here but I wasn’t, you know? Like I was watching myself go through the motions." Angel nodded and his eyes softened in remembrance. She assumed that he was thinking about their brief encounter after her resurrection. After the initial hug, the time had been spent breaking uncomfortable silences with awkward pauses and a hesitant brush of fingers together here and there. For Buffy it had been the final bit of proof that a part of her was missing. If she couldn’t muster more than token affection for the once love of her life, then how could she function with anyone else? Afterwards, she had spent many nights pondering just that and it wasn’t until that fateful night at the Bronze that she found out the answer to her question.

Spike.

"What about him?" The vampire asked and Buffy realized she had said the name aloud. She glared at Angel, angered by the contempt with which he had addressed Spike but she forced it down. There wasn’t time for defensive Buffy. The only thing that managed to do was muck up her relationships--Like it did not twenty minutes ago, huh, Slayer? --And that was something she did not want to do.

She felt a frown forming on her face retreat as it reformed into a wistful smile. Yes, she knew exactly what she wanted all right but the vampire sitting in front of her didn’t. It may not have been his business but the slayer still felt that he should know how important Spike was to her. And why.

"Well," she said and started rocking back and forth, "for starters, he saved me."

*&*

The agonizing screams sounded twice more before Spike bounded over the gates of Shady Groves. He stumbled before righting himself and streaking through the empty graveyard. It didn’t take him long to find the source of the cries but he skidded to a halt when he saw the thing that held the man down.

The demon was like nothing he had ever seen before. It looked like one big muscle. One big, overgrown, pierced and overly pulsating muscle. Spike shook his head in disbelief as he focused on the victim sprawled on the ground. The demon held a single finger to the man's back and he struggled to loosen the demon's hold to no avail.

Spike was torn from his daze as another scream branded the air, jolting the vampire into action. He covered the distance in seconds, planted his foot on a tombstone, and vaulted into the air, morphing into game face halfway through the leap.

The gap between them closed instantly and Spike rammed the stake into the demon's shoulder while wrapping his free hand around its neck, ripping the beast off the spasming body. The vampire winced when metal spikes cut into his arm but he ignored it and twisted the demon's arm behind its back. Using all his supernatural strength, Spike rotated his hips, mindful of the body underneath him and the demon, and spun.

This bloody thing weighs a ton, Spike thought as he pulled the demon off its feet and hurled it through the air. He heard the satisfying crunch as it slammed through a large headstone and rolled several feet before coming to a stop. It lay still, arms sprawled out and flat on its face. Spike watched it for several minutes and when he was confident that it was out, turned his attention to the still victim.

Spike gingerly turned the man over and checked over the injured man's various wounds. A severe gash marred the dark flesh of his baldhead and his face was alit with several minor abrasions. Spike lifted the tattered black shirt and winced at the angry blotches that littered his ribcage. There was no doubt that several ribs were broken though, thankfully, no other bones seemed to be.

"You'll live," Spike whispered and whirled around when he heard a pained whimper from behind a tombstone. The vampire glanced at the demon and, satisfied that it was still out, stood and ventured towards the moan. He found the second man laying on his side. Spike noticed the labored movement and realized that the man was crawling towards a wicked blade several feet away.

"You all right, mate," Spike asked. The man momentarily stiffened before his body relaxed and he lowered his head to the ground. The vampire frowned before kneeling down towards the man. He held his hands away from his body in the case the man attacked. Spike tapped him on the shoulder and repeated his question.

"Well," the man replied after a labored sigh, "I was all right until…" he turned over and Spike's eyes widened in surprise, "you showed up."

"Harris?" Spike asked in disbelief.

The brunette chuckled and was quickly reminded of his injuries. Spike put a hand on Xander's shoulder to steady the latter's body as he coughed painfully. After several coughs, Xander inhaled deeply.

"In the bruised, bloodied, and battered flesh, Captain Peroxide." Although surprise still coated his mind, Spike smirked at Xander's familiar banter. If he could joke, then he was well enough. Of course, the vampire thought, what the bloody 'ell is well enough for the whelp?

Shaking his head, the blonde pinned the brunette with a serious stare. "So," he said, "mind tellin' me what the soddin' 'ell is goin' on here?"

"Not much. Just did a bit of walking around and…" A sharp pain interrupted Xander and his body was again wracked with spasms. Spike watched the man's eyes for some sign as to how bad the other's injuries were when, for the second time in as many minutes, shock slammed into his gut.

"Xander," he said carefully after a full minute of thought, "I may not 'ave been the most attentive bloke when it came to you but I don’t remember your eyes doin' that red glowy thing. Mind sharin' where you picked that up from?"

Xander eyed him mirthfully but when his eyes focused just over Spike's shoulder, the humor died instantly. "I, er, think there are more pressing matters at hand than how beautiful you think my eyes are."

Spike frowned at the man's reply until he saw that Xander was looking past him. "Bloody 'ell," he swore and jumped to his feet just in time to catch and boot to the ribs. The force of the blow pushed the vampire backwards and he tripped over a broken headstone. Ignoring the pain from the demon's kick, the vampire kipped up into a fighting stance in time to see the demon's large fist hurdling towards his face.

Bloody 'ell, the vampire thought. This is gonna…

*&*

Hurt.

She had always known her life had been filled with pain; her father abandoning her, her mother never there for her. She had taken to the streets early, leaving home for days at a time. It wasn't the brightest thing for a thirteen year-old to do and she found that out the hard way. The beatings she had received were something she'd grown accustomed to with her mother's boyfriends. But the other things, the other…violations were much worse than a fist to the face. Physical injuries were easily healed but the other ones, the psychological ones, had yet to close.

And as she recounted her dreams to Giles, a part of her broke reliving the things that had happened to her, things that felt so real that they had to be true. After she had finished her story, she noticed the pained look on his face before his fingers brushed away the tears she hadn't even known were there. The sympathetic touch had been too much and she had excused herself with some incoherent apology.

That was how she got here now; sitting on the back steps, unlit cigarette in one hand, hand full of hair in the other. The endless chatter of crickets was the only thing to interfere with the ambiance of the Sunnydale night. Despite the ache inside of her, Faith was happy here. Spending two years in a five-by-nine cell made one appreciate things more. So maybe she wasn’t the most liked person here, maybe B hated her guts and Giles only pitied her, it was still better than her life of the past twenty years. She may not have been wanted but she was finally needed. Needed to fight the good fight, to stop whatever it was that was coming and, if necessary, give her life for the safety of those that would never know of her sacrifices.

Doesn't that sound all heroic? She smiled wryly at the thought and flicked the imaginary ash from the tip of the cigarette. She leaned back against the steps, elbows propping her up, and stared up into the night sky. It was a beautiful view, something she'd never gotten a chance to appreciate in prison. Hell, there were a lot of things she didn’t get to appreciate locked up but, in ways, it was much better than her life.

Well, expect for the brief months she had spent in Sunnydale.

And that's what hurt Faith the most. She knew she could have made a life here had she only accepted Buffy's friendship instead of letting the pain from her past and jealousy drive her into the darkness. She could have been here, helped against all the demons that had made themselves known over the past few years, made a difference when it counted. But she had made her choices and now the only thing she could do was make amends for them. Of course, there were people that she could never make things right with.

A single tear escaped its prison as she thought about Joyce. The woman had, for a brief time, been like a second mother to her. She had taken Faith in when even Buffy had been uneasy around the brunette slayer. In fact, Faith thought that Joyce's kindness that made Buffy see the soft side of Faith hidden behind the bad ass exterior. No, she'd never get to as for the woman's forgiveness and Faith knew she would have to live with that for the rest of her life.

"Dollar for your thoughts."

The curious voice broke the slayer's descent into melancholy and she whirled around, catching the slight glow of emerald-cerulean eyes in the light of the moon. Her body relaxed at the sight of the other Faith, B's daughter. B has a daughter, the slayer thought and shook her head incredulously. The other slayer must have taken that as a sign and she quietly sat next to the brunette.

Faith welcomed the young woman's silent company as it prevented her from falling too far into the trap of guilt and self-loathing. She had thought often about the fact that aside from Angel, only Joyce had seen through her tough girl routine. She had thanked the vampire that had become her friend but would never get the chance to do the same with Joyce.

Another tear cascaded down her cheek at the thought of the strong woman that had raised a slayer. Tonight had been the first time she'd shed tears since that night behind the alley when Angel held her, ignoring her pleas for death. Even when the soulled vampire told her about Joyce the night Faith had arrived at the Hyperion, she had put it out of her mind. But now, surrounded by constant reminders of the woman, the memories got the better of her.

"You know," Faith Summers said, never taking her eye off the sky, "I've seen a lot of things in my life. A lot of bad, but even more good. I've been surrounded by love for most of my life but evil and hate have touched me as well. Saturated my mind, violated my body in ways--in ways that still haunt me." She craned her neck to look at the brunette. "It's not something I can be rid of or--or sweep up under the rug and forget about. It doesn’t work that way. I know I will always have to deal with it up until the day I die. That's something I can't help. But what I can help is how I let it control me, or not control me, as the case may be. Sure there are moments when I'm back in his arms, watching helplessly as he cuts me or…" She sighed and gazed back up at the clear night.

"But I don't allow that to dictate how I live my life anymore. I can't afford that. Too many people are depending on me."

"That's where you've got me," the brunette whispered. "I doubt if anyone's really counting on me to do anything but screw up. Wouldn’t be the first time."

"Who doesn’t screw up, Faith?"

"Well, B for starters." As much as she wanted to sound sincere, she couldn’t hide the bitterness that crept into her tone.

"Uh, yeah," the blonde replied, "that's why my Dad's no where to be found." When Faith glanced at her, the vampire's daughter chuckled humorlessly. "They had an argument about Angel. Mum sorta compared him to Spike and the "shit" she had to deal with by being with my Dad."

"Oh, come on, honey. That's just B stickin' her foot in her mouth. 'S not like she meant it."

"The point is that she said it, thus she screwed up royally." Faith met the dark brown eyes of the other slayer. "And she knew it right away."

"Well, there you have it. B screwed up, knows she did it and will do everything she can do to set things right."

"You can do the same." The sincerity in the young woman's tone startled Faith and she gaped at the daughter of the only woman who had tried to be her friend. The hope that filled her chest quickly died down however; doused by a cauldron of reality.

"No I can't," she said, shaking her head. "Spike loves B and, from what I saw, B loves him, too. I don’t have that kind of support, sweetie pie. Never did," she added inaudibly.

"Yes you do," Faith said and took the brunette's hand, squeezing it firmly before she let it go. "You have Angel."

"Yeah, but…"

"And you have me."

The former rogue slayer stared at the young woman in disbelief. How could someone, whom she had never met, have so much respect for her? Give her so much support. Just as she was about to voice her questions, the other woman spoke.

"You know, I never met the people that I was named for."

"Huh?"

"They--they died before I was born. Joyce is my middle name, ya know, after my Grand Mum."

"You don’t say?" Faith asked and smiled warmly. "Well, guess we can eliminate the confusion that's bound to happen with the two of us here, huh?" On Faith's look, the brunette laughed. "One too many Faiths runnin' around."

Faith Joyce smiled but pinned the other slayer with serious eyes. "You can never have too much faith," the young woman said and the double meaning sliced the brunette to the core. It took her a moment to regain her composure before she was able to reply.

"Still," she said, her voice shaky, "may be a mite confusing during battle if they tell you to zig and I hear it and need to zag…sure as hell wouldn’t look to good, know what I mean?"

"So, what do you have in mind?"

"Well, Baby J sounds kinda nice." The blonde rolled her eyes affectionately and Faith laughed at the former's resemblance to Buffy.

"So," Faith said after a few moments of silence. "Who was the skank that stole my name? No doubt she wasn't near as sexy as me or…" On Baby J's curious look Faith rolled her eyes. "Come on, girlie. You know someone important had to come along for Buffy and Spike to name you after her. And it sure as hell wasn't me."

"You're right," the woman replied. "It was someone important. Actually, she was Mum's best friend for ten years. In some ways they got closer than even her and Willow had."

"Wow," Faith said, not bothering to hide her envy, "Girl was lucky. B's a damn good friend to have."

"Yeah," Baby J said, "you told her that a lot." Faith whirled again towards the girl and mouthed a response that refused to pass through her mouth. She couldn’t mean…what she said, could she?

"Yes," Baby J assured, "it was you."

"But how? Why?" Faith was thunderstruck. Never would she have guessed that her and B would be anything more than enemies. Even if Faith hoped they could repair the bridges that had been torn down, she was a realist. Doing the things she did to B were things someone didn’t just idly forget let alone forgive. It was impossible to even think that Buffy would name a daughter out of her most hated enemy.

"Faith, you've changed. I know that, you know that, hell even Mum knows that. In my time, you and Mum reconnected after you were released. You fought together for almost a decade. As much as she loved Daddy, Willow, Xander and the others, you were the only one that she could relate to about the calling. You two became sisters and not just in slaying. She depended on you, trusted you."

"Trusted me?"

"Yes, trusted you. But more than that--she loved you." The other woman's confession broke all reserves that Faith had and tears poured from her eyes. She didn’t bother trying to speak since her throat constricted with emotion. Instead, she listened to Baby J speak.

"And you loved her, Faith. You loved her enough to sacrifice yourself for this world although you knew you would be trapped in a hell dimension forever. You didn’t hesitate in giving yourself up to M'shi-Dar to save the world."

"I…I saved the world?" Faith asked herself, still unable to comprehend the fact that Buffy had come to love her like a sister.

"Yeah, you did. And before you were taken you know what you told her? You said 'Never be afraid to live your life, B. Embrace the time you get to be with those you love and don’t hesitate to remind them how much you love them every chance you get.' Right before you disappeared you told Mum that you loved her and that you would always be there with her in spirit. When she realized she was pregnant a year or two later, she didn’t hesitate to tell Daddy what she wanted to name me. And he agreed. So she did that. Named me after two of the most important people in her life."

Faith buried her face in her hands and gave up fighting the sobs that now shook her body. She felt Baby J's arms surround her as the young woman pulled her close. It took her a few minutes before her body relaxed in the other woman's embrace and, when she did, Faith heard the comforting words that would have made her cry even more were it not for the emotional drain.

"Mum named you my godmother, you know? She loved you that much. And I love you that much. Never forget that. Never forget that seeing you alive in there, meeting you for the first time-it’s one of the greatest gifts I could have ever gotten."

As the sobs lessened, Faith smiled into the chest of this young woman that looked and felt so much like Buffy. Buffy. Faith had loved the slayer and envied her at the same time. She had done so many terrible things to Buffy and to find out that she was forgiven and loved by that very same woman was astounding. In truth, she wasn't sure if she would ever truly believe that she deserved it but the fact that Baby J told her was more than she could ask for. She wouldn’t realize until later that those were the words she needed to hear to push away her self-hatred. To be trusted, to be loved was something Faith had always wanted but had never received.

And tonight, here on the porch with her apparent goddaughter, Faith knew that nothing would ever make her feel as wonderful as she did now.

*&*

Buffy leaned her head against the rail and closed her eyes. Sometime during the conversation, she had switched to sitting indian-style and now her hands rested comfortably in her lap. The weight that had been threatening to crush her for the past hour had been mercifully eased. She had told Angel everything--well, almost everything. She had explained to the soulled vampire what Spike had come to mean to her in the past few months after she had been ripped from heaven, how he had been her anchor to a world she was drifting away from. Although she skirted over the more intimate moments (something which see saw still pained Angel to know) she was not so brief over several of their more physical encounters.

She still remembered the shock on his face when she had told him how she had beaten Spike to a pulp. It had been a surprise to Angel that his Childe had not fought back. Even during the days of Angelus, Spike had never been one to take a beating without at least trying to give some of it back. But he had. He had sacrificed his body to alleviate Buffy of her pain and frustration. The reluctant admiration that gleamed in Angel's eyes was not lost on the slayer but she said nothing of it.

She told him how she had ended it when Riley had come--only to have Angel snort at the mention of her ex and she was pleased that the simple gesture had been able to draw a smile from her.

Skimming over Faith's arrival, she had told him about those painful seconds when she had thought Spike was dusted. Tears trickled down her cheeks at the memory of how close she had come to losing Spike. After seeing that he wasn't dust, Buffy had known that the decision to be with Spike had already been made but only then had she realized it. She told him of the conversation with Giles and the fight with Seth that had nearly cost Buffy her life. And she told him that she remembered hearing Spike's voice every night by her side while she lay in a coma.

That had been ten minutes ago and Angel had yet to reply. Any trace of emotion was hidden from view as he adorned his stoic visage. She knew he had been hurt by what she had told him but Buffy finally understood that she couldn’t refrain from hurting everyone, even the ones she loved, like Spike.

Spike. Her gut twisted at the last time she'd seen him. It had been well over an hour ago and he had yet to return. She wasn't afraid, Spike could take care of himself but--but what if he was distracted? What if her words had caused him to get sloppy? What if he died tonight? It would because of her and if that happened…killing Angel had ripped Buffy apart but she had gradually healed. If something happened to Spike tonight because of her, Buffy had no doubts that it would destroy her.

"You love him." The cool words startled the slayer out of her punishing thoughts and she stared at the vampire beside her. His demeanor had not changed in the slightest and for a moment she thought she had imagined the words. Just as she was about to ask Angel if he had spoken, the vampire pinned her with his eyes.

"You love him," he repeated and Buffy noticed the coolness had melted from his eyes. Left in its place was a mixture of pain, disbelief, sadness and acceptance.

"Yes, I do," the slayer confessed when she found her voice. Angel chuckled humorlessly.

"Leave it to Spike to do that."

"Do what?" Buffy asked defensively.

"Spike is a soulless demon, Buffy. He has done things that you couldn’t imagine--although he was never as bad as Darla, Dru or myself. He’s killed two slayers and wanted you dead for years and yet…and yet you fall in love with him."

"Like you said," Buffy replied, oblivious of her rising anger, "he wasn't as bad as you and I was with you."

"I had a soul."

"So what."

Angel held his hands up when he saw the anger flaring in her eyes. "Easy, Buffy. I didn’t mean it like that."

"You didn’t?" She asked sarcastically. "You didn’t mean to demean my love for Spike on the grounds that he has no soul? You didn’t want to remind me of that fact?"

"That was my point, Buffy." He sighed. "Maybe I went about it the wrong way. Buffy, do you realize what you have in Spike? I mean do you truly understand what having his love means?"

Buffy opened her mouth to reply but as she thought about it, she wasn't completely sure if she actually did.

"What it means, Buffy, is that you have someone that will go to any lengths to keep you and yours safe. There is no one that he would not hurt or kill to save you, Dawn and the others. He doesn’t have a soul, Buffy…"

"But the chip…"

"The chip will not stop him from tearing someone apart if they ever threaten you. Listen, as much as I dislike the idea of you and Spike together, as much as the thought of you and him having a…" Angel paused and Buffy noted the guilt that danced in his eyes. He shook it off and continued. "If Spike is one thing, it's loyal. He doesn’t give it out much but when he does, he won't break it. Even with the things Dru did to him, he always wanted her back. I guess she left for good when he got the chip."

"No," Buffy said, "it was because of me. Dru came back to town a little over a year ago and Spike offered to kill her for me, if I would accept that he loves me."

"I'm guessing you didn’t make it that easy, huh?" Angel asked, a tiny grin curling around the edges of his lips.

"You'd guess right. I didn’t…I didn’t think that a soulless being could love."

"Not many of them can. Not really. But Spike and Dru, Spike especially, were always different. They could love but, at the same time, their love was different than human love." He sat in thoughtful repose for several seconds before turning to Buffy. "The point is, Buffy, Spike will always be there for you. No matter how bad it gets between you two, he will never leave you. I saw that much in his eyes tonight."

Angel sighed deeply and Buffy knew that whatever he wanted to say was difficult to put to words. "Spike and I--we've had our differences."

"That's the biggest understatement in the history of the world."

"Yeah, well, what can I say?" They both chuckled, welcome for the slight release of tension. All too soon, Angel fixed Buffy with a serious gaze. "Buffy, I just want you to be happy, to make sure you know what you're getting into."

"I may not know how much love Spike can give," Buffy admitted, "but I know that I'm getting a rude, obnoxiously loud, soulless vampire who is also caring, affectionate, loving and will do anything for me and Dawn. And yes, Angel, I am happy. At least, when he gets back." The last part was whispered but Angel caught it.

"As long as he treats you right, as long as he gives you everything you need, I just want you to do one thing for me."

"What's that?"

"Be good to him, Buffy." Buffy's eyes widened at the sincerity behind Angel's words and she opened her mouth to speak but failed to find anything to say. Giving up that thought, she nodded dumbly and Angel chuckled at her response.

"Well," Buffy said after several minutes, "that wasn't exactly what I expected from you."

"If it's any consolation, I originally planned to call you crazy and threaten to stake him six ways to Sunday if you continued seeing each other. Of course, I knew you'd have told me where I can shove it and threatened me with a staking if I so much as looked at him wrong."

"You know me too well," Buffy giggled and Angel joined in with her. All too soon the laughter stopped and Angel's face became serious again.

"There is something else I want to talk with you about."

Buffy frowned at the rapid one-eighty of the vampire and she sat up straighter. "What is it?"

"I don’t know how to tell you this and I'm…I'm pretty sure you're going to be pissed but…"

"Angel, spit it out," Buffy said and winced at the harshness of her tone. She couldn’t help it. Angel's tiptoeing was making her nervous and a nervous Buffy equaled over-reactive Buffy.

"It's about--" he sighed. "It's about my s…" But the words caught in his throat and he shot to his feet and instinctively morphed into game face.

Buffy was not far behind and stood up, never taking her eyes off Angel as he looked to be sniffing the air.

"Angel, what is it?" She shook off any jitters at Angel's behavior and expanded her slayer senses. At first there was nothing but the gentle caress of wind against her skin but then there was the faintest prickle in her mind's eye. A familiar presence that…

"Blood," Angel growled. "Spike's blood." Angel leapt off the porch onto the lawn and Buffy did likewise. She was right on his heels as he sprinted down the street, taking his queue as to where they were headed. But it wasn't necessary when a lump of something stumbled around the corner. The moonlight shone off a familiar blonde head and Buffy sped up, pulling even with Angel.

"Spike!" Buffy screamed and pulled up just in front of him. She studied his face and winced at the lacerations and bruises that marred his alabaster skin. His duster was ripped in several places but that was secondary to the bundle hoisted over one shoulder and the young black man propped against his other side.

Spike glanced up at Buffy and she saw relief in the eye that wasn't swollen shut. He smiled and the pain in that one gesture was evident. He looked like he would collapse within seconds but the slayer's muscles refused to move.

He looked from Buffy to Angel and back again and Buffy saw the brief flicker of hurt cross his blue eye.

" 'Lo, luv," he said with a smirk plastered across his swollen lips. "Lookie who I found." And with that, he fell to the ground.

"Spike," Buffy yelled as she dropped to her knees. The slayer pulled the body that fell across Spike's back to the side while Angel helped the semi-conscious man that had been leaning at Spike's side.

"Don’t do this to me, you stupid vampire," she growled and flipped Spike onto his back. "Don’t you dare do this to me," she repeated and pulled his head into her lap. Her fingers traced his battered face and tears blurred her vision as she whispered his name repeatedly.

"Buffy." The slayer's heart hitched in her chest when she heard her name, thinking for an instant that it was Spike. But she had watched him the whole time and he lips had yet to move. Still, the voice was eerily familiar.

"Buffy," the voice called again and the slayer turned to where she had pushed the limp body off of Spike. Her breath caught in her chest when she saw the figure that stared back at her.

His face was not as she remembered it. It was harder, more chiseled and his jaw was lined with a beard. His eyes looked bloodshot and hard but when they adjusted to her the warmth that she had welcomed all these years pulled her in and Buffy reached her hand out towards the man as if he were an illusion.

He must have realized her internal struggle and reached his hand to hers, meeting it halfway. Warmth spread through Buffy at the touch, she squeezed his fingers, and only when she was convinced he wouldn’t disappear did she say his name.

"Xander?"

TBC…

She was near. Spike knew that with a certainty. Despite the pain in his shoulder and ribs and what had to be a cracked skull, the vampire senses weren't blunted enough to miss her presence. Her scent was a drug, a magic elixir to his undead flesh, bringing him to life no matter the circumstances. In a way, she was his lightning that reanimated his undead flesh. Of course, that ponce, the Frankenstein, never had it so well.

More or less, he thought and groaned as the three words echoed in his head and, if he were under oath, the peroxide blonde would have sworn a bomb had exploded between his ears.

Another moan escaped his split lips and, for a moment Spike wanted nothing than to be staked. This was worse than anything Glory had perpetrated against him, hell, it was worse than the sodding organ shattered his spine.

Definitely not a good memory to bring up in your current condition, mate. But as loud as his nerves ached, the soothing psalm of her gentle touched muted the persistent voices of pain.

"Cor, luv," he murmured and, ignoring the ache in his face, smiled. "You certainly 'ave tha' touch. Enough to bring a dead man back to life." He forced his eyes open and was greeted by the sight of his slayer.

Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail and her bangs tumbled past her forehead. He stared in awe at the beautiful smile that adorned her face, a smile that was for him and him alone. It was more than enough to chase away the intense throbbing in his head, replacing the staccato drumbeat with the tender mercy that was her love.

"Well, I can't have too much of a touch," she said, "since you're still dead and all." He leaned into the hand that caressed his face and he would have drifted into a much-needed slumber until a warm drop of water splashed his bare chest.

"Luv?" Spike asked as he propped himself up on his elbows, grunting at the jilt of discomfort that cascaded through his thin frame.

"Spike, don’t…"

"No, Buffy," he said and she squeezed her eyes shut. But it was two late and the vampire watched as a single tear broke free from under her lashes and bled down her cheek. Without hesitation Spike brushed the tear away with his thumb. He massaged her velvet flesh, cupping her cheek briefly before sliding his hand to the back of her neck. She opened her eyes and he saw the onslaught of tears she was so bravely attempting to push away. He smiled at her resilience and pulled his lover close. Her breath warmed his skin and Spike inhaled her scent once more before pressing his swollen lips to hers.

Even at the moderate pressure in which the kiss started, Spike winced at the contact but ignored it in favor of tasting her. She was unresponsive at first until his tongue slid along her lower lip, demanding entrance into her mouth. She stiffened momentarily before she acquiesced to his request when his fingers started along the familiar trail at the nape of her neck. From there, all was forgotten as they melded together, their lips and tongues engaged in the ritualistic dance that had been perfected by once mortal enemies.

Buffy moaned as Spike plunged his tongue deeper into the sweet caverns of her mouth. He smiled away the pain as her hands roamed over his alabaster flesh, her nails scratching over the bruises that lined his torso. Weakened by the ferocity that he had awakened within her, Spike fell back against the pillow and Buffy lowered herself on top of him. He groaned when she shifted her position to straddle him and Spike had to fight back the desire to claim her that welled within him. Her pulsating core ground against his lower regions, the friction of their jeans only fueling the necessity that they both felt. It was no longer want but need that drew them together; the need to feel loved and wanted, the need to be appreciated and, most importantly, the need to connect on the basest of levels in order to express what words could never give definition to.

The slayer's undulating hips, however, were too much and despite the overwhelming need to feel her walls to ensnare him in a lover's embrace, Spike broke away. He chuckled at her whine of displeasure and leaning his forehead against hers, he cupped her face between his hands.

"As much as I'd love to continue this to its very pleasurable conclusion, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to take a rain check on the forthcomin' Buffy lovin'." He smiled when she giggled and took the opportunity to nip at her lower lip. He swallowed a groan and his chest tightened when Buffy moaned in response but he broke the kiss before things got out of hand anymore.

"Sorry," Buffy said. She pulled away from him, resting her hands on his chest as she sat up. Her hazel eyes were alit with a superfluous combination of feeling. Spike closed his eyes, terrified of what had looked back at him. Never had he seen Buffy, as she was now with her soul naked to him as his had always been to her. He wished for nothing more than for her to love him as much as he loved her but it had been something he dared not put too much hope in. Yes, she loved him--that much was clear to him. But could she surrender herself to him? Every part of her: the woman and the slayer. Could Buffy give that to him like William and the demon had supplicated themselves to their goddess?

Shaking his head, Spike opened his eyes and returned Buffy's quizzical stare. Gone was the reflection of acceptance he had seen moments before and the vampire could not help but wonder if what he had seen was nothing more than wishful thinking; the dying man's oasis.

"Baby, are you okay?" Buffy asked and Spike couldn’t suppress the grin that surfaced at the endearment.

"Fine, luv," he assured her and winked at her with the one eye that wasn't partially closed. "Gonna take more than a…whatever the bloody 'ell that demon was to stop me." He thought his wry grin would spread to her but it didn’t. He frowned at the desolation that lapped at her features, coating her angelic face in melancholic repose.

"Buffy? What is it?"

She closed her eyes and released a trembling breath. Her nails dug into his chest and he noticed the minute quiver of her lower lip. When she opened her eyes again, the same coating of tears glistened in her eyes and Spike wanted nothing more than to kiss them away.

After what seemed like hours, Buffy sighed deeply and said, "I thought I lost you." Even with his enhanced hearing, Spike had had difficulty discerning her words but when he did, the vampire slid his hands up her arms and, grabbing her shoulders, gently pulled her to his chest.

"There now, luv," he cooed. "Not need to cry. I'm 'ere. Promised till the end of the world, 'member?" She nodded into his flesh and he kissed the top of her head. "I'm always gonna be there for you, Buffy. Always. I'll never let anything get between us." As if the declaration was her cue, Buffy let loose the tears she had been holding for the past three hours. Spike winced as they burned into his flesh; a baptism of salty liquid against him, warming him where there was no heat. He absently stroked her back, whispering a litany of choruses that expressed his fealty to her no matter the circumstances.

He didn’t know how long he held her before her tears dried up and her sobs filtered out. Even when her breathing evened out, Spike still murmured comforting words of love and devotion to his slayer. His slayer. She was that and, if it were up to him, would always be. But he was not a fool; he knew that, notwithstanding the love she felt for him, that things would change. They always did. Somewhere down the line a wedge would be driven between them and once removed would be the final splinter that ended them and, in effect, would either turn him to dust or strengthen their monolithic bond.

Spike closed his eyes, determined to chase away the thoughts that threatened to rip his already fragile psyche from its moors. It was so bloody difficult to do so but the sweet scent of vanilla lulled him into a false comfort. He ignored the voice in his head that whispered for him to prepare for the worst. No, he would not think of anything save for the petite young woman splayed atop of him, her face burrowed in the crook of his neck. He would use this time, this peace, as solace in the arms of the woman he loved more than life itself.

As he drifted into that dark place where the world was cast out and his thoughts were his own, Spike couldn’t shake the thought that the splinter he had so poetically referenced wouldn’t come between he and Buffy. No. It would be the one thing that would obliterate his will to live.

He just hoped it finished him before he lost her.

*&*

The smooth caresses against his head were what pulled C.J. from his unwilling slumber. He tried to remember what had happened but the agonizing throb of pain interrupted all coherent thoughts and the only thing he could do was moan.

"C.J.?" The familiar voice asked. It was near by and he tried to open his eyes but they stubbornly remained closed. Okay, if I can't open my eyes, I might as well try to move. He discovered that moving had been a worse idea than opening his eyes. The muscles in his back began to spasm and he would have screamed if it weren't for the cowl of exhaustion that covered every cell. Instead, he settled for a low moan that summarized his misery nicely before falling into the darkened abyss of unconsciousness.

The same caresses that had awakened him before were back and the buoy of his consciousness rode the waves of pain that continued crashing against every fiber of his being. Thankfully, their assault on his muscles had lessened and instead of tsunamis of agony, he was wrought with a spattering of exquisite suffering that only violated portions of his body; the parts that were in the clear throbbed with dull aches that were in the definitive realm of tolerable.

"You're gonna be okay, C.J., I promise." That voice again. It penetrated the roiling fog that isolated him from anything other than his body's torment. He let out a shaky breath as the voice continued to talk to him, murmuring words of encouragement. For a moment, the pain was forgotten and C.J. was aware of nothing save for the comforting voice of his siren, whose jasmine scent that filled his nostrils and briefly put the injured man in mind of heaven's fragrance. And truthfully, were it not for the pain that danced along his nerves in sadistic torture, C.J. would have thought that he was dead and in the presence of a seraphim.

Of course, he was sure that heaven wasn’t filled with this sort of pain and he seriously doubted angels that were charged with ushering the lost souls through the pearly gates kissed their subjects. In that same train of thought, C.J. wouldn’t have complained.

Even if it was the briefest of touches, his angel's lips were silk, soft, full, and tasted of raspberries. C.J. wanted to devour her, claim her as his own but when he opened his lips to reciprocate, she pulled back suddenly.

"C.J.?" Hope tinged his name and he smiled. Slowly he tried again to open his eyes and, though the pain lanced out at him, his lids slid open enough for him to see.

When the light first hit his eyes, C.J. blanched at the blurry image that tainted his vision. He blinked several times and was rewarded when something off to his right began to come into focus.

At first it was nothing more than an effervescent, verdant glow that filtered through the haze. But as he concentrated on the light, a distinct shape cut through the light and haze. Although his eyes still could not make out the figure in detail, C.J. could discern that it was a woman. A young, vibrant woman with beautiful black hair and smelled of jasmine. Slowly, his jumbled neurons began to make connections between the voice, the scent and the comforting presence. They were pieces of a larger puzzle that his mind had assembled and, despite visual confirmation, his mind had deciphered the identity of his caretaker.

"Dawn?" He asked, his voice hoarse from the trauma and pain.

The emerald glow returned for an instant and the young man wondered if that was a sign of her smile.

"How are you feeling?" His heart jumped at the concern expressed in those four simple words. He wished he could respond poetically, announcing his immediate recovery because of the sonorous sounds of her voice or the enigmatic luminescence that surrounded her. If only he could say it and mean it. Instead, he responded with the truth.

"All right, I guess. Except for the napalm that detonated along my spine and the truck that ran over me afterwards. Yep, other than that, I'm just peachy."

Dawn chuckled and C.J. winced when the mattress shifted underneath him. Dawn cupped his face and leaned closer to him.

"I…I'm so sorry," she whispered and he heard the tears building momentum within her. He sighed at the prospect of Dawn crying and, denying the pain satisfaction of anything else, C.J. sat up as best he could, slid his hand behind Dawn's neck and pulled her to him.

Unlike the previous kiss she had given him earlier, C.J. was a willing participant in this one. He ignored the discomfort of opening his lips to her and instead took pleasure in the tender brush of her lips across his. The need to consume her whole enveloped his entire being and, without even thinking, C.J. deepened the kiss.

He sensed her hesitancy but continued forward, catching her lower lip between his and sucking on it in an attempt to coax the teen from her shyness. As much as he desired it, C.J. was still surprised when Dawn responded accordingly and thrust her tongue into his mouth. If her lips were raspberries, the taste of her tongue was something much more, something more life giving than any cosmic ball of light set in the sky. Energy poured into his mouth and his body was aglow with the warmth of this radiant creature that had possessed his thoughts, waking and otherwise, for the past several weeks.

Her tongue slid across his and C.J. shivered at the blistering heat that radiated from her and, for one instant, the pain was gone.

The moment didn’t last, however, and the distraction of the kiss finally gave way to the familiar stab in his spine. He pulled away from her and fell to the pillow, biting his lip to avoid vocalizing his discomfort.

"C.J.? Are you…"

"I'm fine, Em. Just fine," he replied and smiled at her. He wanted to stay awake--to assure her that he was all right but he lost the battle and answered the call of his body's need for rest. His thoughts were no more as the familiar blanket of darkness covered his pain-addled mind and he was again shut out from the world, unaware of confusion his last words had had on Dawn.

And the young slayer from another time that had watched the scene in silence.

*&*

"How's he doing?"

Willow craned her neck and glanced towards the door. Leaning against the threshold was Tara, dressed in a cream colored nightgown that hugged her breasts and accented the benevolence that radiated from the young Wicca's angelic face.

The red head smiled and beckoned her lover in the room with a single glance. Tara flowed across the room in a divine grace and rested her hands on Willow's tense shoulders. The red head sighed in content at her lover's touch and relaxed slightly, allowing some of the tension to bleed from her muscles.

"Better I guess. I mean, he's not doing the shaky, spasm-y thingy anymore."

"He looks better."

"Yeah. I guess some of those bruises were just caked blood or something because there aren't as many there anymore."

Tara furrowed her eyebrows at the hesitancy in the other woman's voice. She walked in front of Willow and kneeled down next to the chair. "Sweetie, what is it?"

Willow opened her mouth to deny the charges but stopped when she saw the concern in Tara's eyes. "I…I don’t know. It's like…something's different about him."

"He's been gone three months, baby. He's bound to be different than the last time you saw him. And…and he watched Anya die in his arms. Something like that would really affect someone. I mean, put yourself in his position."

Willow shivered at the thought. She wrapped her arms around her and closed her eyes in an attempt to drive out the thought of Tara dying in her arms. No, it was something that she refused to contemplate.

"Yeah," she agreed, "I see what you mean." Tara smiled sadly and stood but grasped Willow's hand, intertwining their fingers. They remained like that for several minutes, staring at the unconscious man on the bed. Before he had passed out, he had given Buffy a vague account of what happened and though they lacked detail on the demon, Giles had left to research the beast. That had been three hours ago and Xander had still not awakened.

"Honey?" Tara said and Willow noticed the tension in the other woman's voice.

"Tara? Is something wrong?"

"I…I don’t know. I just read him…his aura. Willow, you were right. Something is different about him. It's like it's not--"

"Him?"

"N…no. It's not like when Buffy and Faith switched bodies. It's more like…it's like when I read Buffy. There's more there than if she wasn't a slayer. The power of the slayer gives her aura this…this extra layer to it."

"And that's what you're reading with Xander?"

"Yes."

Willow nodded and gently pulled her hand out of Tara's grasp. She brushed her fingertips across Xander's forehead, noting with satisfaction that his fever had completely dissipated. Her fingers trailed down his arm and she took his hand in hers, squeezing his fingers in support.

"Xander," she whispered, "you have to wake up." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "We need you."

The two Wiccas remained there for several minutes until Willow told Tara to get some rest. Reluctantly, the soft-spoken woman agreed and left but not before gracing Willow's lips with a tender kiss.

"Just call if you need me," she said and on Willow nod, glided out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Willow stared for several seconds at the door that Tara had disappeared through before turning her attention back to her oldest friend. Her eyes traveled over him. Tara was right; there was something different about him. True, the physical differences were easy to notice. The corded muscles of his arm, the angular jut of his jaw bone, not to mention the beard that lined his face. And even with his eyes closed, Willow saw the sadness that concealed his once boyish features.

But it was more than that. Something had changed for him on a fundamental level and while Anya's death may have been the catalyst for that, it wasn’t what had made the change within him.

"But you're still my Xander," she said. Abandoning her post on the chair, Willow stood and walked to the other side of the bed. She lowered herself onto the bed, snaked her arm through his and snuggled against his shoulder.

"You're still my Xander," she repeated, "and I love you." Without another word, Willow closed her eyes and allowed sleep to claim her.

She never heard the brunette sneak into the room and lay the gentle kiss on Xander's cheek before murmuring a heartfelt apology to him before fleeing the room.

TBC…

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