Spike reached Dawn, just as she was about to head onto the dance floor. He grabbed her arm, and ignored the small warning his chip gave him as he dragged her towards the centre of the floor. Before she could protest, he was leading her in a waltz, ensuring that she could not escape from his grasp.

“I need to talk to you, Nibblet, and I doubt your going to like what I have to say.”

Dawn wrenched her arm out of Spike’s grip, and looked at the vampire with a cross of confusion, anger, and shock. “Geez, you could have just asked me to dance. What’s with all the harshness Spike?”

Without answering, Spike took Dawn in his arms and started leading her around the dance floor in classic Victorian form. At first Dawn was tripping over both his feet as well as her own, but after a few minutes Dawn had found her bearings and was comfortably allowing Spike lead her around the floor. Neither said a word, but as the first song came to a close, Dawn started to get impatient.

“So are you going to talk? Because to not like what you say, I kind of have to hear it first.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been disappointed in you before Nibblet.”

Dawn rolled her eyes and tried to move out of Spike’s arms, but Spike tightened his grip and continued to spin them around the dance floor.

“I think we’ve already had this conversation. Let’s do a quick summary, k? You treat me like a child, ignore how I feel, and don’t let me have any independence. But, like everyone else, you can’t seem to see that. Just so you know, the conversation is really getting old for me. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to skip the talk and go dance with the cute boy I was with when you so rudely interrupted.”

“That boy is a demon, Platelet. A Cornu demon, to be precise. They age about ten-times slower than humans. He looks about seventeen, so he should be around a hundred and seventy, give or take a bit.”

Dawn looked at Spike in shock, then over her shoulder at the boy in question. There was a look of disgust on her face when she turned back to face Spike. “Ew. I really didn’t want to know that.”

“There’s a lot you probably don’t want to know that you should know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying that you want to be a grown up, but you’re still innocent about the world around you.”

Dawn just rolled her eyes again, and snorted. “I think I’ve dealt with enough demons to know more about the world than your average person. Besides, I want to know those things, but Buffy won’t even let me help research.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about Nibblet. I’m not talking about the Big Bads and demons that big sis slays. I’m talking about the dangers your big sis and I can’t protect you from.” Spike spoke softly, a look of protectiveness crossing his face as he thought about all the things he wanted to protect Dawn from. It wasn’t the vampires and other things that went bump in the night he was worried about, but the people that would take advantage of her and the dangers that she faced during the daylight hours.

“I think I can handle the dangers of dating and having a social life. It’s really not as scary as you think.” Spike had to restrain himself from shaking the teenager in front of him. It was like talking to a brick wall. If there was any trait that Dawn got from her sister it was her stubbornness and unwillingness to see anything but what she wanted to see. The Summers women were probably the most skilled beings on the planet when it came to denying what they didn’t like or agree with.

“What if I hadn’t been at the Bronze last Friday night?”

“I probably would have had a really good time.” The perky statement was followed by a smirk from Dawn that made Spike’s teeth grind. He briefly wondered if his own smirk was that frustrating and irritating.

“What if something had happened?”

“Like what? A demon attacking the Bronze? Been around for a few of those.”

“No. What if one of those wankers you had been flirting with slipped something in your drink? Or if you had gotten jumped in the alley on your drunken way home? What if one of those boys expected a lot more than a dance and a peck on the cheek as a good night? What then?”

“It wouldn’t happen. You wouldn’t let it happen.”

“What if I wasn’t there Dawn? You’re bloody lucky. Buffy was probably about to go to sleep when I dragged you in and she had no clue what you were up to. She thought you were happily at that little bint you run with’s house watching movies and eating ice cream. If I hadn’t been there, anything could have happened and there would be no one to help you. It happens to girls every night.” As Spike spoke, he had been getting angrier and more upset. The mere idea that his girl could get hurt in any way scared him more than words could describe. The possibility that he wouldn’t be there the next time made him feel sick to his stomach.

Dawn gulped and looked up at Spike with big eyes. She could hear how upset he was, and she knew it wasn’t just anger. The protectiveness he had exhibited the night Buffy came back was strong in his voice, and for the first time since she had been busted Bronzing it with Janice, she felt a nagging bit of guilt at her actions. “I’ll be more careful, okay?”

“It’s not just about being more careful Dawn. Do you have any idea at how upset your sister was?”

“She kind of made that clear on the numerous occasions she’s screamed at me about it.”

“I’m not talking about angry, Nibblet. Your sister has never had the choices you have. By your age, she was already Chosen and was out slaying nasties all night, a short life expectancy already hanging over her shoulders. She doesn’t want you to deal with all the crap she puts up with daily. She wants you to have as normal a life as possible and as safe a life as possible. You should respect how much she sacrifices to ensure you don’t have to sacrifice anything.”

“I respect Buffy. I’ve never said I didn’t. I just wish she’d treat me with more respect and treat like a person, not a pet.”

“Running around drinking and partying at all hours is not showing her respect. Do you have any idea how much your actions hurt her?”

“Does she have any idea how much her actions hurt me? While all my friends have late curfews and are allowed to do what they want, I’m still stuck with babysitters. I’m not some baby who needs coddling every moment of every day. If Buffy would just let me have some freedom, maybe I would listen to her stupid rules.”

“Those stupid rules are in place for a reason. Can you even tell me how many time you’ve been kidnapped because of who your sister is?”

Dawn paused mid-step and looked over her shoulder, doing a mental count of how many times she had found herself in some demon’s hands. As the count got bigger and bigger, Dawn furrowed her brow and looked at Spike. “I lost count once I hit Buffy’s high school years.” Spike raised his eyebrows, but before he could give Dawn his usual cocky smirk, she spoke again. “Technically, though, I’ve only actually been around for, like, a year and a half. So really, I haven’t been kidnapped that many times…”

Spike couldn’t believe she was trying to cop out of the argument with that excuse. He silently cursed the monks for how good a job they had done - she was definitely a Summers through and through, just like her sister.

“And, if you or Buffy would teach me how to defend myself, getting kidnapped wouldn’t be such a big problem.”

“Brick wall.” Spike mumbled the words as Dawn continued to justify her position. At the whisper, Dawn stopped speaking and cocked her head to the side.

“What?”

“Nothing, Nibblet.”

“No, not nothing. What did you say?”

Spike sighed even though he didn’t need the breath. He knew she wouldn’t relent until he told her what he had said, and if he told her he’d get to see another Summers trait: her short temper.

“I said brick wall.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The snapped words were exactly what Spike expected, as was the look of anger that was starting to show in Dawn’s expression.

“Nothing. Forget I said anything. Not what I wanted to talk to you about in the first place.”

Dawn wrenched her arms from Spikes grasp and crossed her arms, a gesture that made her look just like her older sister. “Fine, whatever. Why don’t you tell me what you wanted to say so that I can go?" Spike drooped his shoulders and rubbed the bridge of his noise. He looked up and studied the youngest Summers face. He contemplated just walking away and forgetting about trying to fix things between the only two humans on the planet he loved, but decided against it. What he had originally come to say had to be said.

“I’m disappointed in you because you forgot about your mother. What she would want for you. You want to know what Buffy was most upset about last Friday? The fact that she wasn’t doing the job she knew your Mum would have done looking after you.” Spike looked down and turned around, the pain in Dawn’s eyes too much for him to take. But it needed to be said. “Remember something, Nibblet - you’re what’s left of Joyce in this world. Don’t shame her memory by acting the way you have.”

As Spike walked away, he couldn’t help but rub the few tears forming in his own eyes. The conversation had made him think of his own mother again, and the combination of thoughts of her, Joyce, and the look on Dawn’s face had done him in. He headed towards the door of the hall, and headed out into the night. The thought of being in the brightly lit room for one more moment made the blood rise in his throat. He couldn’t understand why he was feeling the way he was, why for the second time that week he was remembering the past he had never given a second thought to for so long. He had finally pinned down the feeling he had felt the evening at the gift store, an emotion he hadn’t felt since the night he met Dru. The feeling was one he thought he would never feel again.

Guilt.

As Buffy finished putting the leftover wedding cake in the fridge, she grimaced at how empty it was. Knowing there was nothing she could do without more money, she started aimlessly walking around the lower level of the house, picking up dishes and tidying as she went. When they had gotten home, Dawn had gone straight up to her room to bed. She had been strangely silent on the way home, not even throwing in her usual sarcastic, bitter comments. Willow had gone home with Tara, saying her and her fellow Wiccan had more to ‘talk’ about. Buffy couldn’t help but smile at the thought of seeing the two walking away hand in hand. It was nice to see all her friends so happy.

The thought of happiness made Buffy pause. Why couldn’t she be happy along with everyone else? She was happy for them, but she wasn’t happy herself. She had finally realized what she wanted. What she needed. And after one conversation that left her sick to her stomach, she realized that her decision was too late.

Buffy’s gut reaction after Arabella left her on the balcony was to go find Spike. She was upset, so she should go see Spike. Then she had realized why she was upset, and her brain had finally allowed herself to analyse her usual gut reaction and understand what it meant. When Buffy needed support, she didn’t go to her best friends, or to her sister. She went to the soulless vampire that loved her. And it wasn’t just because he wouldn’t judge her or expect anything of her. It was because he did expect something from her - for her to be herself. He provided her with a support no one had ever given her. No matter what the situation was, no matter what was going on between them at the time, Spike had always been behind her, supporting her every decision and every action. Sure, he would object and give his opinion, often quite harshly, but he would always be there at her side in the end. Buffy was finally realizing just how much she needed his support to function.

Somewhere along the line, she and Spike had become a part of one another. Buffy didn’t even think Spike saw it. They slayed together, watched out for Dawn together, slept together…the list went on and on. The only things they didn’t do with one another were the things Buffy consciously would not allow. Top on that list for the last few months was that under no circumstances would she allow herself to fall asleep with him. Not after that first night. It was too dangerous to allow herself to do so. When she had first woken up that morning, before she was fully conscious of where she was, all Buffy wanted to do was roll over and hide from the world. She could smell that distinct Spike scent surrounding her, could feel his arms holding her tightly. And she wanted to get lost in those simple sensations. What bothered her more than anything that morning, what made her run more than anything in that whole horrible situation was that she wanted to stay, wanted to forget about everything. About her friends, about slaying, about money, about Dawn. All Buffy wanted to do was lose herself in Spike. And she couldn’t have resisted doing just that if she had ever allowed herself to wake up in his arms again.

But now her attitude had changed. Buffy couldn’t help but chuckle at why it had changed. The wedding of an ex-demon and a man who hated Spike with his entire being had made her finally understand the war being raged against her conscious mind and subconscious mind. And finally, her conscious mind had clued in and admitted the truth about her feelings. Only she was sure it was too late. She was too late.

But maybe she wasn’t. The words Xander had said to her just over a year ago travelled through her mind.

“He's never held back with you. He's risked everything. And you're about to let him fly because you don't like ultimatums? If he's not the guy, if what he needs from you just isn't there, (shakes head) let him go. Break his heart, and make it a clean break. But if you really think you can love this guy ... I'm talking scary, messy, no-emotions-barred need ... if you're ready for that ... then think about what you're about to lose.”

Buffy had thought a lot about those words. Especially in the weeks after Riley left. At some point, Buffy had realized that Riley wasn’t the guy. He had been her rebound guy, even though she still wouldn’t admit it to anyone but herself. For some reason the words had always stuck in her mind. The words had been nagging at her thoughts all day, and now it clicked. She was ready for it.

Without another thought, Buffy was out the door and down the street. She ran the familiar path at her full preternatural speed, reaching Spike’s crypt in less than five minutes. As soon as she reached the door, her entire body froze. She went from being a blur of green to looking like a statue. All the clarity seemed to disappear, and questions started to run through her head. What if he’s not there? What if he is there? Should I knock or slam through the door as usual? What if he’s not alone? What if he is alone? What if he’s alone and doesn’t want to be bothered? What if he’s not interested?

That question made Buffy move. She opened the door cautiously, afraid of what she would find inside, but she needed to know. For once in her life she wouldn’t run away, she wouldn’t avoid what might hurt her heart. She’d take the risk. As Buffy took the final step into the crypt, she closed her eyes and waited for the usual sarcastic comment that came with her entrance. He always knew when she was coming and was always prepared. So she waited, eyes shut, biting her lip in a combination of anticipation and dread.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

After a few minutes had gone by, Buffy opened her eyes and looked around. The crypt was empty. There was nothing, no TV, no chair, no fridge. And most importantly, no Spike. Buffy took a deep breath and swallowed back the sob that was trying to get out. Maybe he’s asleep. I’ve snuck up on him asleep before. Buffy couldn’t just accept this and walk away. She had come farther than she had ever come before. With more purpose, Buffy reached for the match she new always rested above the crypt’s entrance. When her hand found the familiar box, she smiled, and took it as a sign that Spike wasn’t completely gone from this place. Finding a discarded candle, she lit it and headed to the familiar entrance to the crypt’s lower level. The level she had spent hours in. The level she had blown away.

As she cautiously headed down the ladder, candle balanced precariously in one hand, she could smell the smoky remains of the room Spike had made into his home. As her feet hit the ground, she instinctively turned to wear the bed was. It was funny how she knew exactly where it was, having spent such a small amount of time in it compared to the rest of the room. The dim light she had revealed the charred remains of a mattress, springs covered at soot visible from the many holes the fire had caused.

Buffy slowly turned around the room, looking for some sign of Spike. Some sign that he was still in this place. The light passed over the room, illuminating the objects and decorations she could remember adorning the room. As she passed over a trunk, she paused. She couldn’t remember that being there before. In fact, she couldn’t remember seeing anything with a similar shape in the room.

Buffy moved closer to investigate, and saw the telltale signs that this was something new. There were marks in the ash that covered the ground, showing that the trunk had indeed been dragged into the centre of the room. She inspected the trunk carefully. It wasn’t as charred as the rest of what she saw, even in the dark light. It looked heavy and old; the wood lid was engraved with three letters. W.A.C.

“William…”

Instantly Buffy knew that the trunk had belonged to Spike as a human. But for some reason, she doubted that it still contained what she would have originally found in it. Buffy knew she shouldn’t open the trunk, but she couldn’t help it. She had never been good with temptation. She placed the candle beside her and allowed her hands to delicately trace over the three letters before she slowly began opening the lid.

*****

Spike had been walking. He wasn’t sure how long he had been walking, although he was aware that it had been at least two or three hours. He knew he should probably do something or go somewhere, but instead he just walked. He had probably passed every gravestone in every graveyard at some point that evening, staking a few fledglings as he went. There was no fight in his stakings, they were fast, mechanical and efficient. He had too much on his mind to put the energy he needed to have fun dusting the new vampires.

So he continued to walk, hands dug deeply into his duster pockets, shoulders slumped, and head down. Every so often, his hands would appear; a fag in one, his lighter in the other. The nicotine was doing nothing to come his nerves, but Spike continued to hope in vain that the nicotine in one of the many he had smoked would kick in eventually. He was beginning to hope they would kick in soon.

It was hard enough having to try and interpret the staring competition he and Buffy had had during the wedding ceremony. The way her eyes had looked into his, completely open, it was new to him and slightly unnerving. It had given him so much hope that maybe… Spike was afraid to think the thought, afraid that his vocalising a reconciliation between him and the Slayer would curse the possibility. He had felt her eyes on him numerous times that night, but she hadn’t come near him, and he wouldn’t, he couldn’t go to her first. It frustrated him that he hadn’t had time to study the Slayer covertly and try to figure out what she was thinking. He had had things to do at the wedding, and he had forced himself to focus on them and not her green eyes once he had gotten to the reception.

That brought up the two other difficulties he had. First, there was his conversation with Dawn. It had actually gone quite well, he thought. Before he had walked away, it looked as if he had finally struck something in her teenage brain that would make her see how stupid she had been. Hopefully what he said would stick, and not be forgotten in a few days or weeks. By the expression in her eyes, Spike was pretty sure his words would actually stay with the youngest Summers and influence her actions in the future. It wasn’t Dawn that had been bothering him, though. It was his own reaction. The feelings and thoughts he had had at the end of the conversation. Feelings he hadn’t felt until recently.

Spike had spent a good hour of his walk trying to figure out what it all meant. He had thought about his feelings and actions over most of his unlife, and what he saw bothered him. In the last two years, he had been slowly feeling things and caring about things that he never would have before. Most specifically, the love he felt for Buffy. He had and still loved Drusilla. But it was so different than what he felt for Buffy. Drusilla was like a drug. He constantly wanted more, but every dose damaged him more and more. Loving Dru had caused him more harm than good, and he was glad that his time with her was over. With Buffy, it was so much simpler, and so much more complicated than what he had with Drusilla. His love for Buffy had no strings, no fine print. He loved her. It couldn’t be categorized as love for this reason or that reason. It didn’t depend on specific conditions or traits Buffy possessed. Although Spike felt awkward using the word to describe anything about himself, when he thought of the love he had for Buffy, the word pure always came to mind. He felt pure love for Buffy. And the emotion was the most complicated and most basic emotion he had, or ever would, feel.

At first he had thought it was the chip’s fault. It had softened him up by not allowing him to hunt. But he had been hunting, just not humans. If truth be told, some of his most brutal kills had occurred while slaying demons, and definitely some of his most fun. They had the power and strength that most humans didn’t possess, sometimes they even surprised him with a challenge. If anything, not being able to kill humans had provided him with a whole new set of fighting skills. His next answer to the emotion question was maybe that the chip provided stimulus to the parts of his brain where specific emotions were. The thought was viable, but there was a gnawing feeling in his stomach that told him that wasn’t the situation. There was something else going on with him, going on around him. He was a little apprehensive about whatever that was, but again part of him was telling him the changes were good.

There was one thing that was definitely not good. It was anything but not good. When Spike had gone to D’Hoffryn, he had doubted the demon would agree to do what he had asked. He had wanted things fixed. He didn’t want things fixed for him, but for Buffy. Even if it meant he would be out of her life forever, he needed to try and make things better in her life.

“Spike.”

“D’Hoffryn.”

“So what may I do for you? That expression tells me you’re here to talk business.”

“Spike, I’m sorry, but I cannot do what you ask. It’s not in my power to do something like that…

He had known going into the conversation that the old, powerful demon would probably refuse his request, but he had to try. He had expected a flat out refusal, even laughing. He hadn’t expected what D’Hoffryn had said next. He really wished D’Hoffryn hadn’t told him what he had.

“Things are in play, big things. You’re involved, everything is involved… this goes straight to the top.”

The warning had made Spike very nervous. D’Hoffryn had never been one for chaos, but he wasn’t one to give a doomsday warning. He usually just stepped back and watched things unfold. And of course, Hof couldn’t just give him a warning about what to be ready for, it had to be cryptic and confusing. There were so many possibilities for the meaning behind the words it made Spike’s head spin.

Spike was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts by the familiar tingle in the back of his neck.

“Buffy.” Before he even realised where he was, he could sense the Slayer was near. Looking around, he couldn’t help but smile smugly. He had somehow managed to end up outside his crypt. Well, his old crypt, anyways.

Spike had listened to Arabella’s advice and found a flat in one of the nicer apartment buildings in town. He had funded it for the next few months by selling Dracula’s debt to Arabella. The topic of the one hundred year old bet had come up on one of their drunken trips down memory lane. Arabella had been there when the bet was made, and, of course, remembered the event much better than Spike did. The next afternoon Arabella had arrived at the crypt with a newspaper and manila envelope in her hands. Hung over and half asleep, Spike had signed a contract selling the debt to the Keeper. She had made some calls, done some math, and had decided that she would be able to get the money from the legendary vampire a lot more easily than Spike ever would. Spike could remember her mumbling about it being a project with interest while she counted out the very generous amount of money she was giving Spike in return. Of course, there were conditions for the money.

Arabella had spent the morning apartment hunting. She had found a few places that were up to her standards and available right away. One beneficial thing about living on the Hellmouth was the fast turnover rate for real estate. The mortality rate probably had a big hand in that fact, and it definitely helped Spike find an apartment that came furnished. Spike had moved in immediately, and only had one more object to transfer from the crypt, his trunk.

As Spike entered the crypt he wondered idly if Buffy had found the trunk that was home to his personal history. Everything he had saved over the years, even a few pictures and mementos from his human years were in there. When he saw the faint glow coming from lower level, it was confirmed. Buffy was probably sorting through his most personal and revealing belongings as he stood staring at the glowing trap door in front of him. Strangely enough, it didn’t bother him.

One of Spike’s favourite Buffy-dreams was when they would sit, entangled in each other’s arms and talk. They would talk about everything, their lives, their interests, the weather. It didn’t matter what they talked about in the dreams, the important fact was that they were both perfectly content being in each other’s company. Sometimes in the dream they were in the sunlight, sometimes in her house. Most often the location was insignificant, and all Spike could see was Buffy’s smiling face as she told him about her day. They had had so few real conversations since she had come back, and none of the conversations they had ever included a smile from the blond slayer. Spike had always known the important details about Buffy’s life, and quite a few secrets no one else knew, but he had never been given the opportunity to learn the little things, like what her favourite food was, or what books she had loved as a child. He had learned some things from his talks with Joyce, but there was something so much more special about the idea of Buffy willingly sharing herself with him.

The thought that Buffy would learn some of the things he dreamed of learning about her made him smile gently. Even she wasn’t asking him specifically, she was still learning those things he so desperately wanted her to know. The trace of hope he had always clung onto until recently was starting to emerge, and Spike made a quick move towards the stairs.

*****

The first thing Buffy saw when she opened the trunk, was a black and white picture of Drusilla in a poodle skirt. Buffy stared at the picture for a moment before the inside of the lid caught her eye. It was covered with postcards from all over Europe. Lifting the corner of one up, Buffy’s eyebrow raised when she recognized the messy scribble on the back. It was Angel’s writing. Angelus’s. Buffy wondered if all the postcards had come from her ex-boyfriend before he got his soul, or if it was by chance that the one she chose to glance at was from him. Her focus on the postcards disappeared as she saw another picture that rested at the top of the trunk. It was old and delicate looking, a severe woman dressed in the 19th century style, with a small boy standing obediently beside her. The sharp cheekbones and large eyes gave the identity of the boy away, and Buffy found herself staring at the photo, mouth agape. She had never really thought of Spike as human before.

Before Buffy could do anymore rummaging, she felt the tingle that only Spike’s present caused. It was different than the feeling most vampires caused - that uncomfortable crawling up the back of her spine. With Spike, the tingle was a welcome sensation, a light tickling at the back of her neck that quickly spread to the rest of her body. When she felt him right behind her, she dropped the lid of the trunk and spun around. Even in the shadows, his piercing blue eyes drew her own green ones to them, and she almost fell back at their intensity.

“Spike, um, hi. I, uh, I thought you were gone. I mean, the crypt, it’s, it’s empty,” Buffy gestured around, wishing she could disappear into a corner. Her cheeks had quickly gone a bright red at being caught looking in the trunk.

Spike had to suppress a chuckle. He had never seen her so embarrassed before, or so cute. Her large eyes had somehow managed to get even bigger, and she was gnawing at her bottom lip nervously. Spike could barely stop himself from pulling her into his arms when she started to fidget under his stare. Spike opened his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. He was enjoying watching her turn beet red too much.

“I didn’t see anything - well not much. A few postcards and photos, that’s all really. I, I thought you had left it here.”

Spike stepped out into the light and smiled the same gentle smile he had on before as he got closer to both trunk and Slayer. “It’s alright, luv. Wouldn’t have left it out in the open if I didn’t want anyone to find it.”

Buffy straightened her back a little and looked at the vampire in front of her. He looked so different without the duster and usual punk get up. The gentle expression matched the suit he was in, and it made her want to reach out and wrap her arms around him forever. Well, Buffster, now or never. Maybe she could do just that. Buffy took a deep breath and stepped towards Spike. She could feel the air between them change as they got closer, and she relished in the electric feel that went down her spine.

“I want to apologize.”

Spike just shook his head gently. Something was definitely different with his Slayer. “I told you it’s alright, luv. No need to concern yourself over it.” Spike paused and thought for a second. “Although, I doubt I’ll ever hear an apology come from you again, so why don’t you go ahead.” He couldn’t help saying it, and smirked at his petite love. To his shock, a light smile covered her lips.

“That’s not what I wanted to apologize for.” The smirk left Spike’s mouth, and was replaced with a dead serious expression. Buffy gulped nervously and looked down. Slowly, she turned her head up, and looked directly into the azure eyes that had always read her so well. “I wanted to,” Buffy paused and took a deep breath. I can do this; my heart won’t stop if I say this out loud. “I wanted to apologize for not being clear the other day. When I said I can’t love you.”

Spike winced and stepped away. He could not believe he had been stupid enough to think she was here for a reconciliation. Turning his back to Buffy, he closed his eyes and waited for the biting comment he knew was coming.

Buffy bit her lip nervously. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to begin. She could feel her heart beating heavily in her chest and wanted nothing more than to bolt. Her feet were betraying her though, and she was rooted to her spot. She knew she had no choice but to continue, however scared she was. “I shouldn’t have feelings for you, Spike. I’m not supposed to. That’s why I can’t love you.” Spike’s ears perked up, there was something in her voice that gave him hope, but he didn’t turn around, he just waited for her to continue. “But I do - have feelings, I mean. You make me happy. I’m sorry I’ve been so afraid to let you - ”

Before she could continue, Buffy found herself enveloped in Spike’s arms, his cold lips covering her own. She welcomed the passionate kiss, and wrapped her own arms around his neck, entwining her fingers in his hair. After what seemed like both years and nanoseconds, they separated. Both panting, although only one needed to breath. Buffy looked into Spike’s eyes, and was knocked away by the love and happiness he saw there. Suddenly, his eyes clouded over slightly, and he looked at her quizzically. She knew instantly that he was wondering about whether she would tell the Scoobies about them or not.

“Does this mean - ”

Before he could finish the question, he was silenced by Buffy’s finger on his lips. “I’ll - I mean, we’ll tell them tomorrow. I want to do this properly this time.” Even as she said the words, Buffy could feel the familiar knot forming in her stomach. She shrugged it off when the happiness and love came back to Spikes eyes, this time mixed with awe. Before Buffy could even form another thought, Spike was kissing her again as he spun her around the room.

When they finally broke apart, Spike was sitting on the trunk, Buffy straddling him. Both their lips were swollen and red from their impromptu make-out session, and Spike had a goofy grin Buffy had never seen before plastered across his face. He was holding her casually around the waste, their foreheads wresting against one another. “I love you so much, Buffy.”

Buffy just smile and pecked him on the lips. “I hate to say this, but I better get going. I’ve got to wake up early tomorrow and I’ve got a double shift at the Palace for getting all of today and yesterday off.”

“I’ll walk you. Better head back to my new place before the sun comes out to visit.”

The couple forced themselves to get up and lose contact while they climbed the ladder to exit the crypt. As they walked the familiar path towards Revello drive, they walked in blissful silence, arms wrapped tightly around eachother. Buffy hadn’t felt this content longer than she could remember. She felt as if all the weight had been lifted off her shoulders and she was free to enjoy the world again. Spike was still in shock. He never thought he’d actually be walking arm in arm with Buffy, cuddling like a real couple as they took a late night stroll.

Once they reached the door, Spike turned to Buffy and drew her into yet another long, deep kiss. As they broke apart, Spike looked at her hopefully. Before he could suggest he come inside, Buffy smiled and shook her head.

“Tomorrow. After we tell everyone. Xander and Anya don’t leave for their honeymoon until Monday - something about it being more economical. Just be at the Magic Box at sunset, okay?”

Spike nodded and answered with another long kiss. This time, Buffy whimpered as they broke apart. She was ready to drag him inside behind her, but knew she had to control herself, Spike certainly wouldn’t.

Breathlessly, she whispered, “Tomorrow,” again, before giving Spike a chaste peck and rushing into the house. She leaned against the door until she could no longer sense his presence, and headed up to the bathroom to have a very cold shower. She wasn’t sure she could last twenty-four hours now that she realized just how long it had been since they were last together.

*****

Chapter 13 - Hurt

“I thought you were going to help me find my Mama, Monsieur.”

Spike looked down at the little girl and smiled. “I’m sure she’s just around the corner.” He tightened his grip on the child’s hand and lengthened his stride. The little girl whimpered, but kept up with him. As they turned the corner, they were met by a large, hulking minion guarding a door.

“Master Spike,” the minion spoke with a snarl, his eyes flashing yellow as he looked at the child, nostrils flaring at the scent of her fear. Without another word he opened the door for his master, bowing his head as Spike walked by, although his eyes never left the small child. As they entered the building, soft singing could be heard.

“Ring around the rosies,

A pocket full of posies,

Ashes,

Ashes,

We all fall down.

Ring around the rosies,

A pocket full of…”

“Drusilla, Princess, where are you?” Spike strode through the large, dark hall. It was silent except for the soft voice that seemed to be coming from every direction.

“Where’s my Mama, Monsieur? I don’t like this place.” Spike had to suppress a growl at the child’s whimper. He was about ready to snap the little girl’s neck; the only thing stopping him was the thought of how pleased his Dark Princess would be with a final French gift. It was their last night in Paris, their train for Prague was leaving at sunset the next evening and they would not have time to hunt before boarding the train. Spike wanted to make Dru’s last French meal special, and knew she would be delighted with the little girl he had found.

As he neared their bedroom, the singing became louder, and soon Drusilla came floating out of the bedroom clad in one of her soft, long dresses. She had Miss Edith clutched to her chest and a dazed expression on her face.

“Miss Edith is whispering of all the lovely death that came with the roses and rats. Raining ashes of blood, it was. Isn’t it a pretty song, my Spike?”

“Lovely, pet.”

“She says we’ll be dancing in rings and have roses all around us soon,” Drusilla pale face became even paler as she saw the visions dance in front of her. The whimpering and light shaking that always gave way to one of her tantrums began and Spike was quickly at her side, throwing the little girl roughly into a corner.

“Hush, Princess. Everything will be fine as long as I’m here.” He wrapped his arms around the vampiress and led her to the corner where his gift was trying to melt into the shadows. “I’ve brought you a gift. Why don’t you introduce her to Miss Edith?” A grin spread across Drusilla’s pale features, both beautifully childlike and insanely evil all at the same time. Kneeling down in front of the little girl, she began to stroke the now crying child’s hair.

“Shh, shh, shh, little one. I don’t like it when you cry.”

“I want my Mama, Madame.”

Drusilla took the child’s hand, and placed Miss Edith in it. “I’m your Mama now, and my Spike is your Papa. And this is Miss Edith, she can be very naughty, and then I have to punish her. You won’t be naughty, though, will you?” The little girl shook her head and clutched the doll tightly to her chest as Drusilla lead her towards another room.

“Ring around the rosies…”

Spike woke up with a start. Closing his eyes, he tried to block out the images of the little girl, but they wouldn’t disappear. Spike felt a stirring in his stomach and jumped up, sprinting to the bathroom adjacent to his new bedroom. He barely had time to reach the toilet before he heaved the bloody contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl.

“She’s been very naughty, Miss Edith, hasn’t she?”

Spike pulled himself up and splashed some water on his face. He looked up into the empty mirror, glad he couldn’t see his reflection. “Bloody hell, man, get it together. You’re not your sodding Grandsire.”

“I’ll say.” Spike looked up with a start, jumping into a fighting stance automatically. When he saw the figure standing in the door, his body slackened and he leaned against the sink.

“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom, Ari?”

“Watching you have a nightmare and regurgitate pig’s blood.” Arabella stepped into the bathroom and looked over at the toilet, crinkling up her nose. “I’m glad you’ve got such good aim, Will. Otherwise I might have had to join you in being ill.” Arabella strode out of the bathroom and over to his closet, Spike following wearily behind her. She grabbed the first pair of pants she saw and threw them at Spike. “Put those on. However much I enjoy taking in your assets,” she smiled mischievously and looked over her shoulder, giving herself a last glance at Spike’s naked form, “it’s really not appropriate.”

After pulling on the pants, Spike flopped into his bad, staring up at the empty ceiling. He felt the weight of another body joining him in the bed and turned his head to see Ari with a large, false grin on her face. “What do you want?”

“Is that any way to treat a guest?” Arabella spread out on the bed beside him, mimicking his position. When all she got was a glare, she spoke. “I want two things, actually. First, you’re coming to Tijuana with a stop-over in Los Angeles with me. We need to pick up Henry before we head across the border.”

“No.”

“Oh, why not? It would be fun. When was the last time you went on a road trip?”

“When Drusilla dumped me.”

“Oh right, well, you’ve already been dumped so I promise it won’t happen on this trip.” Ari smiled hopefully, waiting for Spike to give in.

Spike had to control himself to not allow the big, goofy grin that was threatening to break out across his face at the mention of his relationship status. He was still having trouble believing that he and Buffy were back together - it had only been a week apart, but it had felt like ages and it was all so different now. He had never expected Buffy to give him a real chance at making her happy. And now he had that opportunity and more.

“I’m not going to Tijuana with you, lamb. Nothing you can say or do will convince me.”

“You really are a stubborn git, aren’t you?”

“‘Yes I am. ‘Sides, aren’t you here on work?”

“Yes, but I went to the Post Office last night after the reception -”

“Since when have there been Oracles in Sunnyhell?”

“Oh, they’re temporary. That whole voice-of-God thing they do with Henry really gives me the creeps, so whenever I’m on a big case I get my own personal Oracles.”

“Spoiled brat.”

“Aren’t I? Anyways, things have had to be moved forward - stars aligning too early, sequence of events unforeseen, so on and so on. I’ll explain it all when we go to the Magic Box later. I really hate explaining things more than once.”

“Alright.” Arabella was surprised. She had expected at least a little bit of prodding before he would grudgingly wait for her to explain what was going on. “Rather eager to get over there myself.”

A light smile played over Spike’s face as he thought about his reasons for going to the Magic Box that evening. Buffy was going to tell her friends about them. Willingly tell them about them. She had been so open the night before, at first Spike had thought it was a dream. And then he had kissed her - partly because he was so happy at her being honest, and partly to see if it was all real or just a dream. Thinking about the kiss led Spike’s mind to thinking about other Buffy-related activities, and soon Spike found himself completely oblivious to anything but the images of Buffy dancing around in his head.

“And I hope you’re happy that I was civil with the Slayer at the reception last night. Well, technically, I was really quite rude at first, and maybe a little threatening…but I was quite civil near the end of our conversation.” Spike was so lost in his own thoughts, that he had barely heard a word Arabella had said. His brain had only noticed that she was speaking when he heard her mention Buffy, but only focused away from his lust filled thoughts near the end of her speech.

“What conversation, lamb?”

“You weren’t bloody listening to a word I said were you?” Arabella sat up from her lazy position beside Spike and crossed her arms over her chest, an annoyed look on her face.

“Sorry, lamb.” Spike gave her a small smile, not sorry in the least for his stray thoughts. “My mind is on something else.”

“If you say you were thinking about the Slayer, I will rip your heart out and stomp on it is I watch you turn to dust myself, instead letting her do it - again.”

“Aren’t you being a tad bit hostile?”

“Not really. You should try it - it is in a demon’s nature to be violent.”

“You’re not a demon, and you’re always trying to convince me that’s not the truth. Besides things are different now.”

“Right.” Arabella looked at Spike sceptically as she strolled over to his closet, and poked her head inside.

“Things are going to be very different after the little powwow at the Magic Box. There’s a meeting at sunset if you’re interested.” Spike stretched lazily, barely able to contain his grin as he thought about just how different things would be.

“I would be, but then I would have had to been there over half an hour ago,” Arabella said indifferently, content to rummage through the black that made up Spike’s wardrobe. “You know, I think you had this same T-shirt in the 1950s.” Arabella turned around, said T-shirt in her hand, only to find the room empty. “Well that was rather rude.”

*****

Buffy sat at the table in the Magic Box, angrily glaring at her watch. Her day had been horrible, and the fact that Spike was over a half hour late was really not helping her mood. When she had woken up this morning, a grin had been plastered across her face. For the first time in a long time, she was happy. There will still outstanding bills to be paid, a job that she hated, and Dawn’s problems to deal with, but she didn’t care. She knew everything would be alright because she had Spike. Finally admitting how she felt had released a weight from her shoulders. The amazed, happy look and soft kisses Spike had given her the previous night had filled her with a warmth and calmness. So she had woken up with a grin the morning that had quickly faded.

That Morning…

Buffy stretched leisurely, glancing over at the clock casually to see how long she had before she needed to get moving. When she saw that the glowing numbers on the clock display said 10:37, her eyebrows had knitted together pensively. Where was she meant to be at 10:37? With a start, Buffy shot out of bed. She was meant to be at work, halfway through her morning shift which had started at seven. Buffy had grudgingly accepted the shift after getting both Friday and Saturday off for the wedding, even though they were peak days at the Doublemeat. After saying goodbye to Spike and heading into her house the previous night, she had gone straight upstairs and into a cold shower, and then promptly curled up in a ball on her bed, completely forgetting that she needed to set her alarm.

And now she was late, very, very late. When she finally arrived at the Palace, she rushed in the back, pulling the ugly hat that was her uniform on as she did so. She was met by a very angry manager, who was holding a box that held the contents of her locker. As quickly as Buffy had come through the door, she was out. She didn’t even say a word, vaguely hearing three strikes and last straw before the box was shoved into her hands and both she and the box were shoved out the employee entrance. In a daze, Buffy wondered around, heedless to the stares she was getting at the chicken-cow hybrid that was on her head. After about an hour of wandering, Buffy found herself in a familiar graveyard. Going to the crypt, she went to open the door with a new found purpose before she realized that Spike no longer lived there. Sighing, she turned around and headed towards Revello.

When Buffy got home, she was met by a grinning Willow at the door. She heard her say something about Tara, but escaped to the solitude of her bedroom as quickly as she could. Locking the door behind her, Buffy pulled the evil shoe box that held all the unpaid bills out from under her bed. Sitting at her desk, she did the math. Over and over and over again, praying that she could find some solution that had not been there before. Some secret trick to making all the bills disappear with enough money being left over for at least some groceries. After three hours of staring at bills and bank statements, Buffy snapped the pencil she had been chewing on in half and threw the two pieces across the room. She then curled up in a ball on her bed, and stared at the clock, willing it to be sun to go down and that it would soon be time to see Spike.

Buffy still really wanted to see Spike. But she didn’t want a hug and the support he had always given her. She wanted to see him so that she could slam her fist into his face and yell at him for adding that little touch that made her day all that much worse. Looking around at her friends, Buffy got angrier. It had taken her a long time to convince Anya and Xander to tear themselves away from their bed to come over to the Magic Box. They were leaving for their honeymoon the next morning, and had sequestered themselves in their bedroom until that time. Anya was sitting impatiently, intermittently glaring at her watch and at Buffy. Xander had rolled his eyes when Buffy had insisted they wait for Spike for whatever she had to say, and had been complaining ever since.

“Buffy, we’re leaving now.” Buffy took her eyes away from the door to see Anya and Xander standing nervously, ready to leave. “It’s been over half an hour, and you’ve said nothing. We just got married and need to have more sex.”

Buffy’s knuckles turned white as she clenched her hands into fists, trying desperately to conceal her anger from her friends. With an apologetic smile, she nodded her head. “I understand, sorry for wasting your time. Have a good time on your honeymoon.” She was going to kill him. She was going to kill him in the most painful way possible.

Just as the newlyweds were about to exit the shop, Spike came running through the door at full supernatural speed, stopping abruptly as he entered the shop.

Pausing to get a bearing of his surroundings, it took Spike a moment to realize that all eyes were on him.

“Does this mean we have to wait to have orgasms?” Anya said huffily, already heading back to her usual chair. Xander followed her, and although he didn’t say anything, for once he looked to be in agreement with his wife completely.

“No, it’s okay, you can go,” Buffy said in a clipped manner, never taking her eyes off of Spike. “I wouldn’t want you to have to wait any longer. Forget I needed to say anything. It’s not that important.” Buffy turned sharply and walked towards the back exit, needing fresh air before she attacked the vampire in front of her.

Anya and Xander shrugged, and got up to leave. Before they could move towards the door, Spike had his hands up pleadingly. “Just wait a while more, she’s just pissed at me. Let me go smooth things over with the Slayer, and you won’t have to spend your honeymoon in anticipation of what she had to say.” Xander was about to speak up, when he felt a soft touch on his arm. He looked over to find Tara giving him a resolve face that equalled her girlfriend’s. Whatever Buffy had to say regarded the vampire and it was obviously important. He took a pouting Anya’s hand and guided her back into her chair, willing her to sit and wait for whatever had to be said. Without another word, Spike strode towards the back of the shop.

Spike slid out the back door, quietly closing it behind him. In front of him, Buffy was pacing back and forth. She looked as angry as he had ever seen her. As angry as she had been at Dawn just over a week before. As he tried to slip into the shadows, she spun around and glared at him. He could actually feel the anger coming off her in waves. He just hoped he could get her to forgive him for being so late.

“How dare you. How dare you do that to me, Spike!”

“Luv, I’m sorry I was late. I know it sounds like a stupid excuse, but I overslept.”

“Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was, do you? Trying to explain to my friends why they were sitting around doing nothing for almost an entire an hour when I insisted that they had to be there at sundown? I couldn’t even give then a real explanation to why it was so important to wait!”

“Buffy, pet, I’m sorry. Please don’t get worked up over this.” Spike moved forward cautiously, afraid that if he got too close she would send him backwards with her fist.

“Don’t get worked up over this? If you had any idea how bad my day has been - this is just the icing on the cake. And what a shock, it’s all because of you.” The venom in her words was like a slap, and Spike retreated to the shadows. “And you try to shrug it off by saying you over slept. It’s just like you.”

“Buffy, please listen to me. I’ve been having these dreams, nightmares, and -”

“I don’t want to hear it! God damn it Spike, this is why I can’t be with you. You are completely self-involved, you don’t really care about anything but yourself. How can I depend on something that can’t even be there one time? This was all a big mistake. I just wanted to feel something after the wedding and what Arabella said - and, again, you were convenient. Forget last night ever happened.”

At her words, Spike felt something inside him snap. All the pain, all the hurt that had been penned up inside him snapped. Instead of the numbness he had felt a week before, he felt as if his emotions were being magnified. All the pain he felt, all the hurt, and all the love were magnified, and he couldn’t contain it anymore.

“You really do know how to rip a bloke’s heart out and grind it into oblivion, don’t you? Is this all a game to you - is it? Do you just want to see how far you can push me before I break? Because, you know what, you’ve done it. I’m broken. You’ve got you’re bloody wish, I’m finished.”

“What?” Buffy was taken aback by the rawness in his voice. She had expected him to speak, but she never expected the kind of anger that she could hear now.

“I’m finished. I’m finished with all of this. All I have ever done is loved you - yes, I bloody well bollixed it up on more than one occasion, but that doesn’t mean I loved you any less. I have experienced more than my share of pain in the last century and a half, and I have to say, you are the bloody queen of pain. I never thought it was possible for anyone to hurt me as much as you have - Glory didn’t, Angelus didn’t, Dru didn’t. And I keep on convincing myself that you can’t possibly hurt me anymore - that it will be different the next time round. And every time I begin to believe that it really is different, you hurt me more.”

The pain and sadness in Spike’s voice had finally snapped Buffy out of the anger she had been blinded by, and the words he had said earlier had sunk in. Why was she being so cruel to him, and why? He had been late. He hadn’t committed some horrible sin; he hadn’t betrayed her on any level. It was reflex for her to lash out at him, habit. When she was angry or upset, she would always take it out on him. She didn’t even realize what she said until after the fact. And now she couldn’t take it back. She could hear in voice, and see in his face, that she couldn’t take it back.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore.” Buffy’s words were barely a whisper, but Spike picked them up. With a bitter laugh, he slid down into a sitting position, leaning against the brick wall of the alley, and took a cigarette and his lighter out of a deep pocket.

“Could have fooled me, luv.”

“I don’t. I - I just get so scared sometimes, and so angry… And it’s so much easier to lash out than it is to face things.” Buffy slid down beside Spike, looking desperately at him for a sign that he still cared about her. “I’m so sorry, Spike, please.”

“I don’t think sorry’s enough this time, pet. Not for either of us. We hurt, and we hurt, and we hurt, all because of one another. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to be the reason you’re in pain.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you’re in pain, either. How do we fix this?”

“Tell them, Buffy. Half of the problem is that you’re ashamed of us. And it makes me ashamed, ashamed that I can’t be something you’re proud of.”

“I know. It’s just, it’s been such a bad time. I was fired, and there’s bills, and Dawn… and, please, just wait. Can’t we wait until we’re good inside before we deal with the outside?”

“I don’t know if I can do that, Buffy. I can’t be your dirty little secret anymore.”

“But -”

“No, luv. No.”

“So what then?”

“I don’t think I can be here anymore.” Spike reached out and wiped the single tear running down Buffy’s cheek before he pushed himself up and walked inside. Buffy didn’t say a word, she just stared at the spot where he had been.

“But I love you.”

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